ARTHUR  1RUS 


u^ARy  OF  ^ 


Vlr\tf    V 


807.73 

R9H3 Russell.  A.  j, 

UTHOR 

Stony  Lonesome 


rl3   Russell,  A.  j. 
R9lls   .    Stony  lonesome 

6904 


LISRARY  OF 
WALT  DISNEY 


U3RARY  GF  7!-!E 
WALT  DJCNEY  STUD! 


Copyright,  1903, 
BY  ARTHUR  J.  RUSSELL 


3k       i 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.   In  Which  the  Reader  Obtains  His 
First  Glimpse  of  the  Town  and 
of  Its  "Prominent  Citizens"  .     .         I 
II.  In  Which    the   Boys    Find  Buried 

Treasure  in  the  Pirates'  Cave     .       31 

III.  In  Which   Uncle   Ellery  Makes  a 

Plea   for  an  Improved  Order  of 
Society 51 

IV.  In  Which  the  Boys  Have  an  Adven- 

ture with  the  Big  Bell    ....       66 
V.  In  Which  It  Becomes  Necessary  to 
Found    the   Patriots'    Defense 
Society 86 

VI.  In  Which  the  Treacherous  Raid  on 
Slim  Jones'  Stock  Comes  to 
Naught 100 

VII.  In  Which  Peewee  and  "the  Police" 
Break  Up  a  Secret  Meeting  of 
the  Patriots' Defense  Society  .  .  112 
VIII.  In  Which  Peewee  Jackson,  the  Boy 
Detective,  Finds  a  Clue  as  Big 
as  a  House .  .  123 

IX.  In  Which  the  Boys  Decide  to  Take 
Uncle  Ellery  into  Their  Con- 
fidence   136 

X.  In    Which    Peewee's    Coup    d'Etat 

Fails  to  Accomplish  Its  Object     154 


TO 
THE    MEMORY  OF 

"DOC"  (ROLAND  c.)  BOWMAN, 

CARTOONIST  AND   POET, 
HONORABLE   MAN   AND   LOVING   FRIEND 


Stony  Lonesome 


CHAPTER  I 

In  Which  the  Reader  Obtains  His  First  Glimpse  of 
the  Town  and  of  Its  "Prominent  Citizens." 

HELLO,  Peewee,  whatcher  doin'?" 
"Nothin1." 

Peewee  Jackson  was  certainly  a  very 
small  boy;  when  you  got  to  know  him, 
it  was  equally  certain  that  he  "was 
small"  spiritually.  Peewee's  parents 
had  called  him  Henry  because  he 
had  an  uncle  of  that  name;  but 
the  boys  had  rechristened  him 
Peewee  because  the  name  fitted 
him. 

Peewee  had  started  to  grow,  but 
he  had  been  caught  in  an  eddy.  His 
little  trousers  had  begun  to  bag  at 
the  knees,  but  they  had  been  cut  off  in 
the  middle  of  the  bag,  and  looked  as  if 
they  had  been  stopped  too  suddenly  and 
were  suffering  from  the  shock.  The  boy 
seemed  to  be  an  altogether  useless  and 


unnecessary  addition  to  the  town — a  sort 
of  afterthought.  Yet  there  was  a  good 
deal  of  the  boy  in  Peewee,  too.  He  car- 
ried about  with  him  a  few 
rods  of  twine,  a  sling-shot,  a 
half  pint  of  dried  peas,  and 
some  stolen  apples.  He  was 
a  moody  and  quiet  boy,  but 
like  other  still  waters  he  was 
deep.  Having  built  himself 
up  on  detective  stories,  he  had  an  idea 
that  he  was  very  keen  in  ferreting  out 
crime.  His  anxiety  to  get  at  the  bottom 
of  whatever  occurred  in  Stony  Lonesome 
had  won  for  him  the  dislike  of  the  other 
boys,  who  did  not  care  to  have  such  little 
derelictions  as  window  smashing  and 
apple  stealing  traced  to  them,  and  for 
this  reason  they  had  acquired  a  habit  of 
laying  all  these  crimes  at  Peewee's 
door.  Because  of  these  unjust  charges, 
Peewee's  face  had  come  to  wear  an 
expression  of  pained  surprise. 

At  the  time  the  question  recorded 
above  was  asked,  the  hose  had  been  cut 
at  the  schoolhouse  fire,  and  indignant 
firemen  had  ripped  off  pickets  from  the 


Stony  Lonesome 

fence  with  the  intention  of  using  them 
about  the  persons  of  certain  of  the  boys. 
Peewee  Jackson's  name  was  naturally 
mentioned  in  this  connection,  and  search 
was  made  for  him,  but,  lo,  he  was  not. 

Shorty  Hitchcock  had  found  him  sit- 
ting on  the  edge  of  the  wharf  whittling 
a  shingle. 

"Hello,  Peewee  whatcher  doin'?" 

"Nothin'." 

"Where  you  been  ?" 

"Nowhere." 

"They're  lookin'  for  you." 

"I  don't  care.     Let  'em  look." 

"The  schoolhouse's  a-fire." 

"What  of  it  ?" 

"She's  out  now." 

"Umph !" 

"They  said  you  set  her." 

"I  never." 

"Well,  you  cut  the  hose." 

"You're  a !" 

"You  dassent  say  that  again." 

"Don't  hafter." 

"Well,  you'd  better  not." 

"Why  not?" 

"Never  you  mind." 
3 


Stony  Lonesome 

"I'd  mind  if  I  wanted  to." 
"Well,  'twouldn't  be  safe  for  you." 
"Why  not?" 
"Never  mind  why  not." 
"I'd  mind  if  I  wanted  to." 
If  the  controversy  had  been  car- 
ried on  between  great  nations,  this 
would  have  been  called  "the  diplomatic 
interchange  of  notes."    It  is  politer  in  the 
case  of  nations,  perhaps,  but  the  meaning 
is  the  same. 

Shorty  Hitchcock,  Spot  Maloney,  and 
Slim  Jones  did  not  associate  much  with 
Peewee,  because  he  did  not  assimilate  with 
the  "Stony  Lonesome  Gang."  Peewee 
was  not  "clubable."  He  was  a  lone  fisher- 
man, not  dependent  on  companionship. 
He  was  a  tramp  steamer  picking  up  busi- 
ness where  it  could  be  found.  On  the 
other  hand,  Shorty,  Spot,  Slim  Jones,  the 
fat  boy,  and  Stubby  Jones,  his  tall  bro- 
ther, were  bound  together  by  pretty 
strong  ties,  although  as  a  rule  they 
hunted  in  couples. 

Then  there  was  another  solitary  pine  in 
Stony  Lonesome.     Reference  is  made  to 
that  model  child,  Frankie  Foster.    The 
4 


Stony  Lonesome 

boys  had  a  particular  spite  against 
Frankie  because  he  was  neatly  dressed, 
gentlemanly  in  his  manners,  and 
kept  his  nails  clean  and  his  hands 
white  and  soft.  There  were  bent 
pins  always  waiting,  oh,  so  quietly 
and  softly,  in  Frankie's  seat, 
and  when  Spot  Maloney  sat  on 
Frankie's  new  stiff  hat,  and  then 
kicked  him  on  the  shins  for  hav- 
ing it,  great  was  the  joy  in  the 
Stony  Lonesome  schoolhouse 
yard.  And  all  for  no  other  rea- 
son than  that  Frankie  was  a  nice  boy  and 
a  gentleman.  Of  all  the  methods  used  to 
make  Frankie  Foster's  simple  and  kindly 
life  miserable,  I  am  ashamed  to  speak; 
but  you  know  what  boys  can  do. 

One  day  in  school  Frankie  burst  out  cry- 
ing. He  cried  in  a  quiet  and  heart-broken 
way,  and  for  a  few  minutes  the  gang  felt 
mean.  The  conspirators  tried  to  grin  or 
to  look  unconscious,  but  they  all  felt  "low." 
The  abuse  had  gone  so  far  that  even 
Frankie  could  not  stand  it  any  longer. 

The  teacher  also  rose  to  the  occasion, 
and    two    of  the    worst   outlaws    of   the 
5 


Stony  Lonesome 

school  "caught  it  bad"  that  day.  Spot 
Maloney  was  freckled,  stubby  in  person, 
and  stubborn  in  disposition,  and  he  didn't 
mind  it  much;  but  Shorty  Hitchcock  was 
sensitive  and  felt  the  disgrace  keenly.  It 
wasn't  altogether  "the  lickin'  "  that  hurt, 
but  his  conscience  troubled  him  for  bully- 
ragging Frankie  Foster.  And  all  Stony 
Lonesome  heard  of  the  affair  and  was 
glad  that  the  boys  had  been  "caught  up 
with"  at  last. 

The  town  expressed  this  joy  outwardly 
when  the  victims  appeared  on  the  street. 
Spot  didn't  mind  this  much  either,  but 
Shorty  kept  away  from  "downtown"  and 
loafed  around  the  lanes  and  barns  and 
out  in  the  pasture  where  the  ferns  grew 
and  where  there  was  a  nice,  fresh,  woodsy 
smell  in  the  air.  For  everything  back  of 
Stony  Lonesome  was  woods  and  fields. 

Stony  Lonesome !  No  very  ardent  ad- 
mirer, unless  sadly  deficient  in  humor, 
could  have  affixed  a  name  like  this  to  a 
town.  I  cannot  remember  that  the  name 
had  any  offensive  significance.  It  stood, 
rather,  for  everything  that  was  romantic 
and  adventurous. 

6 


Stony  Lonesome 

From  a  boy's  point  of  view  it  was  an 
interesting  and  busy  town.  No  matter 
how  little  was  going  on  in  the  shops,  the 
boys  charged  the  atmosphere  of  the  place 
with  expectation  and  excitement.  And 
when  the  fire  engines  that  propelled  their 
streams  of  water  by  hand  power  came  out 
at  night  for  practice, 
how  could  any  one 
truthfully  say  that  the 
place  was  dull? 

These  hand  engines, 
known  as  Tiger  No.  2 
and  Torrent  No.  i,  did 
not   give   their   exhibi- 
tion   on   any   regularly 
appointed    day,  and   it 
was  impossible  to  fore- 
cast just  when  this  great   event   of  the 
week  was  to  come  off.    The  warning  was 
usually  given  by  some  Paul  Revere  run- 
ning  breathlessly  down    the   street   and 
hollering  to  all  his  friends  as  he  passed: 
"She's  goin'  to  squirt !" 
Then  every  boy  dropped  chores,  base- 
ball, marbles,  or  whatever  he  happened 
to  be  engaged  in,  and   made  a  bee  line 
7 


Stony  Lonesome 

for  downtown.  The  engines  were  on  the 
river  bank,  and  two  lines  of  firemen  in 
their  shirt  sleeves  were  manning  tie 
brakes  and  waiting  for  the  signal.  A 
crowd  of  men  stood  around  discuss- 
ing the  merits  of  the  two  engines. 

Every  boy  in  town  knew  the  fine 
points  and  records  of  each  tub,  and  was 
a  loyal  supporter  of  one  or  the  other. 
Nearly  all  the  advocates  of  the  Torrent 
were  Republicans.  The  "Tigers"  were 
Jacksonian  Democrats  or  their  descend- 
ants. The  Torrent  was  the  more  con- 
servative tub;  the  Tiger  had  more  of 
what  has  been  called  Americanism.  You 
could  tell  a  boy's  characteristics  by  the 
engine  he  championed. 

The  captain  of  each  machine  stood  on 
the  top  of  it,  a  figure  of  great  power  and 
an  object  of  envy.     As  the  brakes  began 
slowly  to  move  he  swayed  back  and 
forth.     Then,  as  the  men  warmed  up 
to  their  work,  he  yelled:  »00. 

"Break  her  down  !    Take  it  out  of  her !" 
The  brakes  rose  and  fell  with  the  regu- 
larity and  rapidity  of  machinery.     A  yell 
from  the   main   street   showed   that   the 


Stony  Lonesome 

wr'ter  had  taken  a  sudden  spurt,  and  had 
wet  the  group  of  small  boys  who  were 

:=  showing  off  by 
standing  ven- 
turesomely in  front 
of  the  stream.  Wild 
shouts  of  joy  greeted  each 
spurt  of  water  in  advance  of 
the  record.  Presently  the 
gang  at  the  brakes  tired  out, 
the  stream  'fell  back,  and 
finally  ceased,  and  two  men 
with  a  tape  measure  ascertained  what  had 
been  done. 

During  the  trial  Uncle  Ellery  Marsh 
stood  in  the  street  in  his  customary  atti- 
tude, watching  the  stream  of  water  with 
the  eye  of  an  expert,  and  telling  about 
"the  record  we  made  with  the  old  Tiger 
over  to  Louiston,  b'  George!" 

Uncle  Ellery  was  a  sort  of  a  town  ora- 
cle who  could  tell  you  the  history  of  every 
family  in  the  place  for  a  hundred  years 
back,  and  throw  it  into  dramatic  form,  too. 
On  many  incidents  that  might  as  well 
have  been  forgotten  Uncle  Ellery's  mem- 
ory had  a  tenacious  grip.  But  it  was  for 
9 


Stony  Lonesome 

the  dramatic  interest  in  them,  not  for 
their  wickedness. 

"You  see,"  said  Uncle  Ellery,  "we  are 
all  young  ones  growed  up.  When  we 
were  children  we  ust  t'  be  naughty  some- 
times, but,  bless  you,  it  didn't  amount  to 
nothin'.  After  we  get  growed  up  some 
of  us  are  bad,  too;  but  that  don't  amount 
to  nothin'  either.  It's  so  small  the 
Almighty  can't  see  it." 

When  the  boys  were  up  to  their  tricks 
Uncle  Ellery  always  had  an  excuse  for 
them.  Some  man  with  a  grievance  would 
detail  his  troubles  in  public  with  threats 
of  vengeance,  but  Uncle  Ellery  would  say: 

"Wai,  wal,  now.  If  you  could  look  at 
that  as  the  boys  do,  it  would  be  funny.  If 
'twasn't  funny  they  wouldn't  do  it.  Of 
course,  to  our  way  of  looking  at  things, 
them  boys'  actions  don't  seem  to  be  gov- 
erned by  good  sense  nor  reason." 

Uncle  Ellery  kept  a  little  cabinet  shop 
on  the  main  street,  where  he  turned  out 
everything  that  could  be  fashioned  from 
wood,  beginning  with  cradles  and  ending 
with  coffins.  He  had  a  shrewd  and  kindly 
philosophy,  and  he  was  loaded  to  the 
10 


Stony  Lonesome 

muzzle  with  anecdotes  of  the  past,  with 
Indian  stories,  and  with  incidents  of 
adventure  and  sport.  He  was  very  thin. 
They  called  him  "spare"  in  Stony  Lone- 
some. He  had  strange  curves  in  his 
figure,  acquired  from  a  habit  of  standing 
with  his  right  hand  on  his  right  hip  and 
his  left  hand  on  his  left  knee, 
forming  a  truss  support  for 
his  body  according  to  the 
approved  principles  of  me- 
chanics. This  he  did  when 
he  was  resting.  When  he 
was  working  or  walking  you 
would  have  said  that  he  was 
made  of  whalebone. 

Uncle  Ellery  told  us  once 
that  a  boy  was  never  grown 
up  until  it  hurt  him  to  fall 
out  of  a  tree.  This  remark  was  drawn  out 
by  the  fact  that  Spot  Maloney  had  just 
taken  a  pretty  severe  tumble  and  was 
bragging  to  Uncle  Ellery  that  it  "never 
hurt  me  a  bit." 

If  there  were  no  trees  to  be  shinned,  if 
the  engine  didn't  squirt,  if  the  baseball 
game  didn't  come  off,  or  the  boys  got 
ii 


Stony  Lonesome 

tired  of  following  up  Uncle  Ellery,  they 
could  generally  be  found  loafing  under 
the  big  elm  trees  in  front  of  Peewee 
Jackson's  yard.  One  long  summer 
evening  Shorty  Hitchcock  and 
Spot  Maloney  were  in  the  middle 
of  an  exciting  game  of  knife  on 
this  pleasant  green.  Presently  the 
onlookers  were  attracted  by  Stubby 
Jones,  who  stood  by  himself  ab- 
sorbed in  unwrapping  a  rag  from 
his  sore  finger.  Proud  of  occupy- 
ing the  center  of  the  stage,  Stubby 
slowly  unwound  the  rag,  and  the  boys 
surveyed  the  injured  member  with  vary- 
ing emotions. 

"My !     Ain't  that  a  buster !" 
"She's  a  fright !" 
"How'd  you  do  it,  Stub?" 
"I  got  my  knife  sharpened  down  to  the 
new  house  on  the  oil  stone.  When 
I   was   whittlin'  t' words    me,  she 
slipped." 

Stubby  carefully  wound  the  rag  around 
his  finger  again  and  tucked  it  in  his  pocket 
out  of  the  way  of  danger. 

"Why  don't  yer  have  it  sewed  up,  Stub  ?" 
12 


Stony  Lonesome 

"Sewnothin'  up!" 

"Pussy  Clement  had  two  stitches  taken 
in  his  lip  when  he  fell  off  the  barn." 

"Did  it  hurtyer,  Puss?" 

"Did  it  ?     I  wouldn't  have  it  done  again 
for  fifty  cents." 

"She'll  heal  up  herself,  if  you 
let  her  alone  and  don't  wash  her." 

"I  know  she  will;  soap's  no  good  for  cuts." 

At  this  point  some  other  incident  would 
in  the  nature  of  things  have  attracted 
general  attention,  or  the  crowd  would 
have  drifted  back  to  the  knife  contest, 
had  not  Peewee  reached  over  with  a  long, 
elastic  cord  and  snapped  it  at  Stub's 
wounded  finger.  The  attempt  was  not 
so  much  to  inflict  personal  injury  as  to 
express  contempt  for  the  value  of  the 
attraction  Stub  was  offering. 

" Whatcher  tryin'  to  do  ?" 

"NothinT 

"Well,  you  want  to  quit  it,  that's  all." 

"What's  the  matter,  Stub?"  asked 
Shorty  Hitchcock,  suspending  the  game 
and  looking  up. 

"Nothin',  only  Peewee  tried  to  hit  my 
sore  finger." 

13 


Stony  Lonesome 

'Whatcher  want  to  do  that  for,  Pee- 
wee  ?"  asked  Shorty. 

"I  didn't  go  to  do  it.     It  just  slipped." 
"Slipped   nothin',"   Stub  protested;    "I 
saw  you  do  it  a-purpus." 
"That's  all  right." 

"Well,  it  ain't  all  right,  and  you  can't 
make  it  all  right,  either,  durn  you !" 

The   boys    looked   at    each    other 
fiercely. 

"Lick    him,    Stub,    if    he    does   it 
again,"  suggested  Shorty. 

Stubby  intimated  that  he  could  do 
it  quick  and  plenty  and  with  one 
hand  tied  behind  his  back.  Peewee 
grumbled,  but  made  no  further  effort 
to  provoke  hostilities.  Stub  turned 
slowly  to  watch  the  game. 

"Where  are  you  now?"  asked  Spot. 
"I'm  at  kneein's.  You  missed  at  earin's." 
"Hold   on!     That's   a    miss.     It's   my 
earin's  again." 

Shorty  made  his  "earin's"  and  prodded 
the  knife  into  the  ground  safely  at 
"fistin's."  At  "nosin's"  and  at  "elbowin's" 
he  was  likewise  successful.  He  missed 
the  point,  however,  at  "teethin's,"  and 
14 


Spot  took  the  knife  and  continued.  The 
game  ebbed  and  flowed  till  Spot  "mowed 
the  grass"  successfully  and  won  out.  That 
made  it  necessary  for  Shorty  to  "root  the 

peg." 

A  peg  of  wood  about  as  thick  as  a  lead 
pencil  was  whittled  out  an  inch  long  and 
sharpened  at  one  end.  Spot  was  entitled 
to  stick  this  peg  into  the  ground,  and, 
holding  his  knife  by  the  blade,  to  strike 
the  peg  three  blows.  Mean  boys  used  to 
get  in  an  extra  blow  if  the  other  boy 
wasn't  sharp.  Shorty,  the  loser  of  the 
game,  was  obliged  to  get  down  and  up- 
root this  peg  with  his  teeth.  It  was  only 
the  "lowest  down"  kind  of  a  boy  who 
would  for  a  moment  think  of  refusing  this 
fair  tribute  to  his  opponent's  prowess.  It 
was  a  question  of  the  severest  boy  honor. 

Spot  drove  in  the  peg  till  it  was  level 
with  the  sod,  and  Shorty  grappled  it 
with    his    teeth.     Speck    Jordan, 
Noony  Norris,  and  Slim  Jones 
watched  his  frantic  efforts 
and  hollered  with  delight. 

"Root    'er,    Shorty! 
Grub  her  up !"  was  the 


Stony  Lonesome 


encouragement     Shorty    re- 
ceived   until    he    came    up, 
dirty  faced  and  hot,  but  bearing 
the  peg  between  his  teeth. 

"That's   the   stuff!"   exclaimed 
Spot,  admiringly.    "I  didn't  think 
you'd  get  her." 
Shorty  grunted. 
"You  needn't  a-punched  her  in 
so  hard.     I'll  get  even  with  you !" 
"Say,"   said    Spot,   anxious    to 
mollify  his   old  friend,   "let's  go 
over  to  Chuck  &  Squib's  store,  an'  I'll 
buy  the  cigars." 

Chuck  &  Squib  was  a  firm  of  commer- 
cial importance,  and  rated  high  in  Stony 
Lonesome.  The  partners  were  Chuck 
Hollins  and  Squib  Strong,  boys  with  nat- 
ural business  instincts  that  drove  them 
to  "keep  store"  about  as  soon  as  they 
were  put  into  short  pantaloons,  and  to 
get  nearly  all  the  marbles  and  pins  away 
from  the  other  boys  in  the  neighborhood. 
The  principal  articles  on  sale  at  their 
store  were  cigars  made  of  sweet  fern 
leaves  or  of  hay  seed.  There  were  two 
grades  of  these  cigars,  the  "Sweet  Firm" 
16 


Stony  Lonesome 

at  eight  pins  each,  and  the  "Hay  Seed"  at 
five  pins  each.  The  "half-lengths"  brought 
six  and  three  pins  each. 

The  cigars  were  made  by  rolling  pieces 
of  newspaper  around  a  pencil  and  pasting 
them.  These  cases  were  then  slipped  off 
and  stuffed  with  dried  sweet  fern  leaves 
or  hay  seed.  The  hay  seed  had  in  time 
grown  unpopular  because  of  poisonous 
seeds  or  chaff  in  the  hay,  which,  together 
with  the  printer's  ink  on  the  newspaper 
cases,  had  a  tendency  to  give  the  boys 
using  them  sore  mouths,  and  mothers  had 
gone  to  the  length  of  prohibiting  them. 
Yet,  because  of  the  low  price,  they  were 
still  used. 

For  a  moment  the  boys  were  absorbed 
in  the  prospect  of  a  smoke. 

"All  right,  come  on !"  said  Spot. 
"Hold  on  there,  durn  you,  what  are 
you  doing?" 

"What's  the  matter,  Spot  ?"  asked 
Shorty. 

"Slim  Jones  spit  crossways  of  me. 
It's  dead  sure  to  rain  Saturday." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  continued 
Spot,    evidently    growing    angrier. 
17 


Stony  Lonesome 

"We're  goin'  berryin'  Saturday."  The 
fat  boy  grinned. 

"You  needn't  be  so  durn  partickerler. 
Guess  a  feller  can  spit  if  he  wants  to. 
They  ain't  no  law  against  it." 

"Wall,  I  wouldn't  be  so  gosh  durned 
mean." 

"No,  you  wouldn't!" 

"Naw,  I  wouldn't!" 

"Guess  I'll  be  mean  if  I  want  to." 

"You're  a  fatty." 

"Say  there,  don't  you  give  me  none  of 
your  face.  I  won't  stand  for  it." 

"Then  you  can  set  down  for  it." 

"I  don't  have  to  set  down  for  any  little 
runt  like  you." 

This  was  too  much.  Although  Spot 
was  small,  it  did  not  take  him  five  seconds 
to  take  off  his  jacket  and  jump  on  the 
Jones  boy.  But  Slim  was  strong  if  he  was 
not  quick,  and  he  was  larger  than  Spot. 
He  unlimbered  several  heavy  batteries 
and  went  into  action. 

"Gorry!  Slim  Jones  and  Spot's  a-fight- 
in' !" 

A  yell  of  delight  arose. 

"Row!  Row!  Make  a  ring!  Make  a  ring!" 
18 


The  boys  gathered  into  a  ring  and  en- 
couraged the  combatants  with  loud 
shouts. 

"Swipe  'im,  Spot !  O — o,  wasn't  that  a 
good  one !" 

"Meller  his  head !" 

"Lamm  him,  Spot!" 

Two  or  three  men  passed  by  and 
laughed,  but  did  not  attempt  to  interfere. 
Slim  Jones  soon  had  his  opponent  down 
and  was  sitting  on  him,  while  Spot  bit, 
scratched,  kicked,  and  pummeled  blindly. 

At  this  point  Mrs.  Jackson,  annoyed  by 
the  fray  under  her  windows,  bounced  out 
of  the  front  gate  and  made  directly  for 
the  boys. 

The  crowd  scattered  like  chaff  in  every 
direction.  Even  Slim  Jones  got  away  in 
spite  of  his  weight. 

"That    warn't    much    of    a 
fight." 

Shorty  and  Spot  were  again 
on    their    way    to    the 
cigar  store. 

"Slim  Jones  was  too 
big  for  you." 

"He'd    no   business 
IQ 


Stony  Lonesome 

to  spit  crossways,  anyway.     I'll   bet  it'll 
rain  Saturday." 

"If  it  does,  we'll  go  to  the  cave  an'  read 
Moccasin  Mose." 

"Skatin'  bugs  are  awful  thick  after  it 
rains." 

"That's  so.     Monty  Choate  killed  one 
once,  and  he  found  a  cent  down 
in  front  of  the  postoffice  next  day." 
"You    kill    a    skatin'    bug     an' 
you're  sure  to  find  a  cent." 

"I  killed    two  last  spring  an'  I 
never  found  a  cent." 

"Well,  it  was  there,  but  you  didn't  see 
it.    Monty  said  he's  tried  it  lots  of  times." 
"Well,   I   s'pose   it's    so;    the   boys   all 
say  so." 
"It's  sure." 

"Where'd  you  get  them  pins?" 
"Minn  had  'em  on  her  cushion." 
"Gorry !     Won't  she  lamm  you  ?" 
"She  don't  dare  to;  I  got  something  I 
can  tell  on  her." 

"Girls  ain't  no  good." 
"Most    girls    ain't,   but   Minn's 
pretty  good.     She  kin  tell  a  bully 
story." 

20 


Stony  Lonesome 

"It's  a  girl's  story." 

"No,   it   ain't.     It's   a   fairy  story   and 
Brownies." 

"Shucks,  that  girl  stuff!     Tain't  Injuns 
an'  robbers." 

"They's   fairies   and  witches,  too,    r 
and  they  can  turn  you  into  toads."    /• 
"J'ever  touch  a  toad  and  git  warts?" 
"I   never  touch  'em;   but  if  you  tie  a 
string  around  a  wart,  an'  rub  a  bean  on  it 
an'  bury  the  bean,  the  wart'll  go  away." 

"I  know  it.    Slim  Jones  tried  it  and  the 
wart  went  away  in  a  week." 

"What  yer  goin'  to  buy,  Hay  Seed  or 
Sweet  Firm  ?" 

"I'll    get    two    short    Sweet    Firms,   I 
guess." 

"Look  out  he  don't  work  off 
soakers  on  you." 
"You  bet." 

"Soakers"   were   fair    on    the 
outside   but   stuffed   with   barn- 
yard  refuse  and   pieces   of  old 
shoes.     The  idea  was   to   work 
off  these  inferior  brands  on  personal  ene- 
mies or  on  smaller  boys  who  did  not  know 
the  difference.     If  they  protested  against 
21 


this  treatment,  they  found  themselves  in 
trouble. 

Having  bought  two  short  Sweet  Ferns, 
the  boys  sat  down  on  the  sidewalk  out- 
side of  Mrs.  Hollin's  yard  to  smoke  them. 

"These  ain't  soakers." 

"No,  they're  all  right." 
1 ',        "Say,  why  couldn't  we  run  a  store  ? 
,*,{''/}  Chuck's  makin'  no  end  o'  pins." 
|j\[r|'      "I  know  it.     Mrs.  Hollins  told  ma 
1  '     she  didn't  know  what  to  do  with  the 
pins  Chuck  gave  her.     She's  got  two  salt 
boxes  full." 

"Let's  go  down  to  the  house  and  start 
a  store  in  the  barn." 

"We  ain't  got  any  sweet  firm." 

"Let's  go  up  in  the  pasture  an'  get  a 
bunch." 

"Say,  I'll  tell  you  somethin'  better  than 
that.  Let's  go  and  buy  a  bunch  of  cigars 
of  Chuck  &  Squib  and  sell  'em  again 
higher." 

The  idea  was  attractive  and  grew  on 
the  boys  as  they  discussed  it.  After  much 
bargaining  with  Chuck,  they  secured  ten 
"long  ones"  and  ten  "short  ones"  of  the 
Sweet  Fern  brand  at  seven  and  four  pins 

22 


Stony  Lonesome 


apiece.  They  agreed  to  pay  the  next  day, 
but  Spot  had  to  put  up  his  baseball  for 
security.  That  is,  if  the  new  firm  did  not 
pay  over  one  hundred  and  ten  pins  to 
Chuck  &  Squib  by  the  next  day,  the  base- 
ball was  to  belong  to  Chuck 

The  boys  hurried  to  the  Hitchcock  barn 
and  soon  had  a  sign  out,  reading: 


SHORTY   &   SPOT 
SIGARS 


All  the  boys  in  Stony  Lonesome  heard 
of  the  new  venture  and  in  a  little  while 
Speck  Jordan,  Slim  Jones,  and 
Pussy  Clement  strolled  around 
with  their  hands  in  their  pockets 
in  a  careless  sort  of  way,  to 
investigate. 

"Whatcher  got  to  sell  ?" 
"Cigars.     Want  to  buy  ?" 
"Naw.    What  are  they  wuth  ?" 
"The  long  ones  is  nine  pins  an' 
the  short  ones  six  pins  apiece." 
A  yell  of  derision  greeted  the 
senior  partner's  remark. 
23 


Stony  Lonesome 

"Shucks!     We  can  get  'em  for  eight 
and  five  pins  down  to  Chuck's  place." 
"No,  you  can't." 

This  contradiction  was  so  palpably  a 
straining  of  the  truth  that  it  carried  no 
weight.  Every  boy  knew  what  cigars 
were  worth.  The  other  boys  only  walked 
around,  kicking  at  pieces  of  wood 
and  looking  over  the  barn. 

The  two  partners  went  aside  and 
consulted. 

"Say,  we  got  to  sell  'em  at  Chuck's 
price.  We'll  make  a  pin  apiece 
then,  and  they  won't  buy  unless 
we  do." 

"A  pin  apiece  ain't  enough." 
"Well,  we'll  have  to  take  it  till  we 
get  goin'." 

The  boys  went  back  and  an- 
nounced that  the  price  of  cigars  had 
fallen  to  eight  and  five  pins. 

Speck  Jordan  was  the  spokesman  of 
the  gang.  He  said: 

"We  can  get  them  down  to  Chuck's  for 
that.  What's  the  use  of  buyin'  of  you 
fellers?" 

"These  is  better  than  Chuck's." 
24 


Stony  Lonesome 

"Naw,   they   ain't.     They   come   from 
there." 

"Well,  that's  the  price." 

"Come   on,   fellers,   let's    go    down   to 
Chuck's." 

This  threat  was  too  much  for  the  avarice 
of  the  new  firm. 

"Hold  on,  what'll  you  give  for  'em  ?" 

"We'll  give  three  and  six  pins  apiece, 
an'  no  more.     Come  on,  boys." 

"Hold  on  !     You  can  have  'em." 

Shorty  Hitchcock's  idea  was  to  call 
Speck  Jordan's  bluff.  He  had  begun  to 
think  the  boys  hadn't  any  pins,  for 
they  were  not  visible  in  the  lapels  ^P-. 
of  their  jackets.  To  his  immense 
astonishment,  Slim  Jones  drew  a 
whole  paper  of  pins  out  of  his  pocket 
and  carefully  counted  out  ninety.  This 
took  some  time,  as  both  sides  suspected 
underhanded  work  of  some  kind  and  were 
as  suspicious  of  each  other  as  strange  dogs. 

"There's  your  money.    Hand  over  your 
cigars." 

"Guess  I  won't  trade." 

"Shucks  !    You  said  you  would." 

The  gang  was  mad  clear  through  and 
25 


Stony  Lonesome 


ready  to  fight.  Shorty  Hitchcock  slowly 
counted  over  the  cigars  again  and  handed 
them  out.  Then  the  boys  scuttled  away, 
whooping  and  laughing.  Across  the  street 
behind  a  fence  Peewee  Jackson  lay  hid- 
den, craning  his  neck  to  find  out  what 
was  going  on. 

The  two  partners  looked  at  each  other 
blankly. 

"Say,  let's  quit  the  store  business." 
And   another   heavy  firm  went  down; 
assets,  nothing;  liabilities,  twenty  pins. 

Of  course  the  boys  spread  the  story 
over  the  town,  and  whoops  of  derision 
greeted  the  members  of  the  defunct  firm 
when  they  appeared  in  the  school  yard 
or  on  the  street.  When  Shorty  went 
into  Uncle  Ellery's  cabinet 
shop  one  day  to  fool  with 
the  edged  tools,  he  found 
that  Uncle  Ellery  knew  all 
the  sickening  details  of  their 
failure.  Shorty  right  then  and 
there  made  up  his  mind  to 
run  away. 

"Uncle    El,"   he   said,   "I'm 
tired  of  this  measly  old  town. 
26 


Stony  Lonesome 


Everybody    knows     every- " 
thing  you  do." 

Uncle     Ellery's    eyes    twinkled. 

"Now,  boy,"  he  said,  "you  don't 
want  to  take  that  too  much  to 
heart.  S'pose  your  darned  old 
store  had  succeeded  and  you'd 
got  rich.  The  calls  on  your  gener- 
osity would  'a'  been  tremenjous. 
Did  I  ever  tell  you  the  story  of 
the  prosperous  rooster?" 

"No,  what  is  she  ?" 

"Wai,  you  see,  the  price  of  eggs  was 
steep,  and  the  rooster  felt  considerable 
inflated  in  his  own  esteem.  He  was  talk- 
ing with  the  turkey  gobbler  one  day,  and 
remarked: 

'  'We're  turnin'  out  a  sooperior  artickle 
of  eggs  this  year.  The  workmanship  is 
everything  that  can  be  desired  and  the 
goods  is  natty,  up-to-date,  and  fetchin'.' 

"The  rooster  stood  on  one  leg,  and  held 
the  other  claw  up  impressively.  The  tur- 
key gobbler  opened  up  his  tail  and  spread 
his  feathers  impressively,  too,  to  show 
that  he  was  not  behind  the  rooster  in 
good  feelin's. 

27 


Stony  Lonesome 

'  'Yes,'  continued  the  bird,  'I  now  hev 
seventy  hens  workin'  for  me  in  my  egg 
factory,  all  making  a  good  livin'  and  able 
to  indulge  in  little  bits  of  ribbon 
and  other  personal  adornments. 
There  is  a  man  takes  every- 
thing we  projuce.  A  standing 
order,  see  ?' 

"An'  right  here  who  should 
come  along  but  Mrs.  Hen  an'  ask  a  little 
money  for  shoppin'  purposes.  You  ought 
to  hev  seen  the  change  that  came  over 
that  rooster. 

"  'My  dear,'  he  cackled,  'do  you  want 
to  break  me  ?  With  eggs  at  this  price  and 
nothin'  doin',  it's  an  outrage.  I  haven't 
got  a  thing  with  me  but  a  little  chicken 
feed  in  my  pocket.' 

"The  hen  thought  she  might  make  this 
do,  and  the  old  rooster,  sort  of 
unwillingly,  you  know,  drags  out 
a  handful  of  corn  and  oats  and 
passes  it  over.  Then  along  comes 
the  goose  and  wants  money  to  get 
a  new  pole  for  the  poultry  roost,  an' 
another  rooster  steps  up  with  a  bill  for 
scratchin'  in  the  garden  for  the  chickens. 
28 


Stony  Lonesome 


In  about  fifteen  minutes  the  prosperous 
rooster  was  rejuced  to  a  point  where  he 
went  and  stood  in  a  corner  of  the  barn- 
yard on  one  leg,  not  carin'  if  he  was  alive 
or  dead  an'  wonderin'  how  long  it  would 
be  before  he  was  plumb  broke,  anyhow. 

"It  doesn't  always  pay  to  make  a  fy-nan 
cial  success." 

"Well,"  said  Shorty,  "the  firm 
of  Shorty  &  Spot  wasn't  busted 
by  too  much  fy-nancial  success, 
anyhow." 

Shorty  and  Uncle  Ellery 
laughed,  and  Shorty  felt  a  little 
better  for  the  story,  but  he 
didn't  like  to  hear  it  mentioned, 
and  several  fights  over  the 
matter  were  narrowly  avoided 
before  the  boys  forgot  it. 

As  Shorty  came  out  of  the  shop  he 
noticed  Peewee  Jackson  on  the  other 
side  of  the  street,  standing  in  front  of  a 
tempting  store  window.  Shorty  gave  the 
incident  no  thought.  Little  did  he  sus- 
pect that  Peewee  was  playing  the  part 
of  "Old  Sleuth."  Shorty's  accusation  that 
Peewee  had  set  fire  to  the  schoolhouse 
29 


Stony  Lonesome 

and  had  interfered  with  the  hose  had 
cut  Peewee  to  the  quick.  It  called  for 
vengeance !  And  Peewee  Jackson  was 
on  the  trail! 


CHAPTER   II 

In   Which  the  Boys  Find  the  Buried  Treasure  in  the 
Pirates'  Cave. 

THE  boys  had  been  reading  The 
Last  of  the  Mohicans,  and  the  per- 
sonality of  Shorty  Hitchcock  had 
been  merged  in  that  of  Chingach- 
gook.  As  soon  as  Shorty  had 
assumed  this  noble  character,  try- 
ing to  live  and  to  think  it  in  his 
daily  walk  and  conversation,  Spot 
Maloney  became  Uncas.  These 
two  Indians  were  often  seen 
stealing  cautiously  along  the  fences, 
trailing  their  guns,  or  walking  backward 
in  the  beds  of  imaginary  streams  so  as  to 
throw  the  Hurons  off  the  scent.  In  those 
bloody  days  many  an  unfortunate  small 
boy  in  Stony  Lonesome  was  struck  with 
wonder  and  fear  at  the  discharge  of  vocal 
firearms,  and  at  the  sudden  onslaught  of 
Indians  who  scalped  their  victims,  and 
then  disappeared  into  their  native  fast- 
nesses. 


It  was  Saturday  and,  in  spite  of  Slim 
Jones'   indiscretion,   it   was    not    raining. 
The   boys    had    scanned   the   sky 
anxiously,  and  were  much  puzzled 
that  the  omen  of  the  early  part  of 
the  week  had  not  brought  dis- 
aster. 

"I'll  bet  it's  raining  down  on  the 
coast,"  said  Shorty. 

"It's   dead    sure   to    be    rainin 
somewhere,"  replied  Spot. 

"I  saw  him  spit  crossways,  didn't 
you?" 

"P'raps  he  just  missed  it." 

"Say,  let's  paint  up  and  go  up 
to  the  cave." 

"Where  you  going  to  get  your 
paint  ?" 
"I  dunno." 

"Minn's  got  some  paints  in  her 
room  that  she  makes  flowers 
out  of." 

"Let's  look  at  'em." 
The  boys  clattered  up  the  back 
stairs.     Mrs.   Hitchcock   glanced 
at  them  with  suspicion,  but  she  was  too 
busy  to    investigate,  and  the  quiet   that 
32 


settled  on  the  house  made  her  forget 
them.  Chingachgook  and  Uncas,  streaked 
with  ochre  and  vermilion,  were  soon 
creeping  cautiously  down  the  hall. 

"Sh !     We   can't   go   down   the   stairs; 
ma'll  nab  us." 

"Let's    climb    down    the 
porch." 

"Bully!" 

"Where's  the  guns?" 

"They're  out  on   the   back 
fence." 

The  boys  slipped  from  the 
window  to  the  porch  roof  and 
clambered  down  the  apple 
tree  that  hung  over  it.  It  was 
eminently  the  proper  thing  to  do.  Shorty 
had  three  streaks  of  yellow  across  his 
forehead  and  three  of  red  on  each  cheek 
and  a  bit  of  each  on  his  chin.  Spot  was 
also  in  war  paint.  If  Mrs.  Hitchcock  had 
seen  them,  the  troops  might  have  been 
called  out. 

"Cut  for  the  back  fence." 

"Take  a  little  corn  along  to  roast." 

The  boys  slipped  through  the  garden 
and  were  soon  lost  to  view  in  the  dense 
33 


Stony  Lonesome 


forest  of  sweet  corn.  Having  secured  the 
guns,  marvelous  instruments  sawed  or 
whittled  out  of  wood,  they  slipped  through 
the  fence  to  a  back  street,  where  they 
met  Sam,  the  village  negro,  face  to  face. 
"Fo'  God!"  exclaimed  the  astonished 
colored  man.  "What  yo'  all  done  got 
on  yo'  count'nances  ?  Yah, 
yah,  yah !" 

The  boys  started  and  ran. 
"Say,  Spot,  shall  we  drop 
'im?" 

"Won't  the  noise  of  the 
guns  bring  the  Hurons 
down  on  us?" 

"We  can  walk  backwards 
in  the  water  and  cover  our 
trail." 

"All  right,  you  drop  'im." 
Chingachgook  rested  his  rifle  against  a 
tree  and  drew  a  long  bead  on  the  unsus- 
pecting negro,  who  was  now  far  down  the 
street. 
"Bang!!" 

"Shall  we  slip  back  an'  scalp  'im?" 
"No,  the  Hurons  are  all  around  us.    Sh  ! 
Drop  for  your  life  !" 
34 


Stony  Lonesome 

The  boys  fell  flat  on  their  stomachs, 
and  wiggled  and  squirmed  their  way 
under  the  fence  and  in  among  the  trees 
of  Slim  Jones'  yard.  Then  they  arose, 
looked  carefully  around,  and,  bent  nearly 
double,  with  their  guns  trailing,  ran  swiftly 
from  tree  to  tree. 

"Guess  we've  thrown  em  off  the  scent," 
said  Spot,  breathlessly. 

"The  varmints  are  awful  cunning,"  re- 
plied Shorty,  suspiciously  examining  a 
broken  branch.  "I  don't  like  the  looks 
of  this." 

"Let's  take  to  the  water." 

The  boys  stepped  into  an  imaginary 
stream  and  waded  the  length  of  the 
yard. 

"Hello,  there !     What's  the  row ?" 

It  was  Slim  Jones,  the  fat  boy,  who  was 
watching  them  with  great  interest  from 
the  porch. 

"S — sh !  Drop  for  your  life!  The 
Hurons  is  on  our  trail !" 

Slim  Jones  dropped  like  a  bag  of  sand, 
and  wormed  his  way  to  the  side  of  the 
scouts. 

"How  we  goin'  to  escape?"  he  puffed. 
35 


Stony  Lonesome 


"Git  your  gun !     We're  goin'  to  make 
for  the  cave.     It's  our  last  chance!" 

Slim  Jones  doubled  heavily  on  his  trail 
and  made  for  the  barn.  He  soon  re- 
appeared bearing  his  trusty  rifle.  It  had 
several  notches  cut  in  the  stock,  indica- 
ting the  number  of  hostile  Indians  Slim 
had  slain. 

"Now  let's  make  a  dash  for 
the  woods.  We'll  surprise 
them  before  they  have  time 
to  fire." 

The  three  boys,  half  craw- 
ling, half  running,  trailed 
across  the  field  back  of  Slim 
Jones'  house,  then  over  the 
fence  and  through  the  pasture 
lot.  A  herd  of  cows,  peace- 
fully chewing  the  cud,  looked 
at  them  with  large  eyes,  but  made  no 
move.  Spot  Maloney  could  not  resist  the 
temptation.  Bang!  He  had  shot  at  them. 
"Hold  on,  you  durn  fool!  What  you 
doing  that  for?" 

"We've  got  to  have  some  buffalo  meat 
for  supper." 

"No,  we  ain't  neither.     We  can't  light 
36 


Stony  Lonesome 


some   game 


a  fire  to-night.     It  will  bring  the 
Hurons  down  on  us." 

Shorty  shielded  his  eyes 
with   his   hand   and   swept 
the  horizon  anxiously. 
"That  was  an  injoo- 
dicious  shot.     I  don't 
like   the  indications." 
"Aw,    get    out!      I 
say    we    got    to    have 
supper." 

"Trap  it,  then.  We  can't  take  chances." 
The  boys  were  now  on  the  edge  of  the 
woods  and  moved  along  freely  without 
any  precautions.  There  was  a  series  of 
cliffs  and  rocky  canons  ahead  of  them, 
which  were  known  as  the  first,  second, 
and  third  cliffs.  The  first  cliff  was  gen- 
erally the  limit  of  the  ex- 
plorations of  the  smaller 
fry.  The  second  and  third 
cliffs  were  considered  suffi- 
ciently remote  and  deep  in 
the  recesses  of  the  forest 
to  give  honorable  shelter  to  the 
gang.  There  was  a  pretty  good 
cave  in  the  first  cliff,  but  it  was  too 
37 


Stony  Lonesome 

generally  known  to  be  of  much  inter- 
est. When  the  first  cliff  was  reached, 
Slim  Jones  began  to  show  signs  of 
fatigue. 

"Say,  let's  stop  at  the  first  cliff  and  dig 
the  cave  in  further." 

"  Tain't  safe,"  replied  Spot.  "They're 
too  close  to  us.  Besides,  nothing  but  the 
kids  go  there." 

"Let's  go  to  the  Pirates'  Cave  in  back 
of  the  second  cliff,"  suggested  Shorty. 
"We're  pretty  safe  there." 

"I  ain't  goin'  there,"  protested  Slim; 
"it's  too  durn  far." 

"Oh,  get  out !  You  come  along.  It's 
only  the  next  cliff." 

"Naw,  I  won't  do  it." 

"Well,  stay  here  if  you  wanter,  then. 
Me  an'  Spot's  going  to  find  some  treasure 
an'  make  a  fire  an'  trap  game  an'  get 
something  to  eat." 

The  idea  of  something  to  eat  stirred 
the  fat  boy  like  a  bugle  call. 

"You  ain't  got  any  matches." 

Shorty  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket  and 
drew  out  half  a  dozen  dirty  matches. 

"Whatcher  got  to  eat?" 
38 


Stony  Lonesome 

Spot  carefully  unrolled  a  pa- 
per and  showed  three  ears  of  sweet     r^-^j 
corn. 


"Roast  corn  and  jerked  buffaler 
meat  ain't  so  bad." 

Slim's  objections  were  melting 
away,  and  he  followed  the  party 
as  they  plunged  again  into  the 
forest  and  were  soon  lost  to  view. 

Climbing  the  second  cliff  was  a  poser 
for  Slim  Jones,  but  he  finally  made  it,  and 
sat  down  to  get  his  breath  while  Shorty 
and  Spot  were  dashing  around,  rolling 
boulders  down  the  cliff,  banging  at  imag- 
inary game,  or  jumping  from  the  rocks 
and  catching  small  trees  for  a  swing  in 
a  way  that  would  have  thrown  their 
mothers  into  hysterics. 

When  Slim  had  recovered  his  breath 
and  the  other  boys  had  tired  of  the 
fun,  they  climbed  over  the  rocks  farther 
into  the  tall  timber,  which  was 
divided  near  the  cliff  into  two 
parts  by  a  rocky  gorge.  On 
one  side  of  this  gorge  the 
rocks  had  fallen  away  in 
titanic  confusion,  making 
39 


Stony  Lonesome 

a  fine  fireplace.     Farther  down  the  gorge 
on  the  same  side  was  a  deep  cave.    The 
boys  looked  around  with  exultation. 
"Say,  ain't  this  great !" 
"Bully!" 
"Ever  been  up  here  before,  Slim  ?" 

"No.  Pop  Rollins  told  me 
about  it,  though.  He  said  pirates 
came  up  the  river  and  buried 
somethin'  in  it." 

"Shucks!  How  does  Pop 
know?" 

"He  says  Uncle  Ellery  told 
him  one  day  up  to  the  grave- 
yard, and  pointed  out  the  place 
so  he  knew  it. 

"Why  didn't  Pop  dig  for  it  ?" 
"He  did,  but  he  says  the  bottom  of  the 
cave   was   solid   rock   and    there    warn't 
nothin'  buried  in  it." 

"Thunder!     Let's  go  see!" 
The  boys  made  a  dive  for  the  cave  and 
crawled  into  the  dark,  cavernous  opening. 
The  floor  of  the  place  was  carpeted  with 
dead  leaves,  blown  in  by  the  wind.    These 
the  boys  scratched  away. 
"Gosh  !     It's  all  rock  !"  said  Shorty. 
40 


Stony  Lonesome 

They  sat  down  and  looked  around  dis- 
contentedly. 

"Perhaps  it  was  another  cave." 

"P'raps." 

Spot  Maloney  was  prying  away  at  a 
rock  wedged  in  at  the  farther  end  of 
the  cave. 

"Say,  she's  loose !" 

Hope  sprang  up  like  a  fountain  in  the 
hearts  of  the  boys.  Here  was, 
if  not  a  mystery,  at  least  some- 
thing to  work  on.  A  boy  is  not 
satisfied  if  he  is  not  expending 
his  energy,  provided  only  that 
this  energy  is  not  expended  on 
chores,  or  what  is  considered 
work  in  the  technical  sense. 
That  is  utter  weariness,  even 
before  it  is  begun. 

"Brace  against  the  rock,  Spot,"  said 
Shorty,  "an'  git  yer  feet  against  it.  Git 
under  it,  Slim." 

The  rock  came  out  with  a  jerk,  and 
the  boys  fell  in  a  heap,  with  the  rock  on 
Shorty's  leg. 

"O— o!  Roll  her  off,  Spot!  She's 
breaking  my  leg." 

4' 


Stony  Lonesome 

Slim  and  Spot  put  their  weight  to  it, 
and  Shorty  got  out  from  under  and  sat 
down  to  see  if  he  was  all  right.  When 
the  damage  was  found  to  consist  merely 
of  a  little  broken  skin,  the  boys  turned  to 
the  hole  in  the  wall.  It  was  small,  but  it 
opened  into  something,  and  they  were 
filled  with  the  lust  for  adventure  and 
treasure. 

"You  crawl  in,  Shorty;  you're  the  slim- 
mest," said  Spot. 

Shorty  looked  at  the  dark  hole  dubi- 
ously. 

"I  don't  want  to." 

"Why  not?" 

"P'raps  there's  a  hole  in  there  that'll 
let  a  feller  down  so's  he  can't  get 
back." 

"Throw  a  rock  in  and  listen." 

The  rock  dropped  in  without  any  rev- 
erberations from  the  bowels  of  the 
earth.  But  the  place  was  as  dark  as 
pitch. 

"You  crawl  in,  Spot." 

"I  can't  get  through." 

"Try  it." 

"It  ain't  no  use.  You're  the  smallest." 
42 


Stony  Lonesome 


"Perhaps  the  skellerton  of  the  pirate's 
buried  over  the  money,"  suggested  Slim. 

This  suggestion  was  not  well 
received. 

"Wonder   if    his   durned    old 
ghost's   guardin'   the   treasure." 

"What  if 'tis?  He  couldn't  walk  only 
at  midnight." 

"That's  so.  And  there  wouldn't  be  any 
money  only  at  midnight.  It  disappears 
at  day-time,  they  say." 

"We  might  come  up  and  dig  at  mid- 
night," suggested  Slim  Jones. 

"Well,  that's  a  good  one.  How  yer 
goin'  to  wake  up  ?" 

"Keep  awake  till  then  an'  climb  out 
the  winder." 

"Why  not  let  Slim  crawl  in  ?" 
This    suggestion    was    received     with 
laughter,  but  Slim  took  offense  at  it,  and 
there  might  have  been  trouble 
if  Spot   Maloney   had    not   at 
this   time   recovered  from  the 
pirate's  ghost  scare  and  begun 
to  back  into  the  hole,  kicking 
around  with  his  feet  to  see  if 
there  was  a  firm  bottom. 
43 


Stony  Lonesome 

"How  does  she  feel,  Spot?" 

"All  right.  Leggo  my  arms !  I  can't 
kick." 

Spot  wormed  and  pushed  and  crowded 
and  grunted,  but  finally,  after  a  supreme 
effort,  his  shoulders  went  through  and  he 
disappeared. 

"Spot!" 

"What?" 

"What's  in  there  ?" 

"Nothin'." 

"How  big  is  she?" 

'  'Bout  as  big  as  the  other.  Gimme  a 
match." 

The  match  was  handed  in,  and  the  two 
boys  outside  saw  Spot  light  it  and  look 
around. 

"The  floor's  dirt!  Yessir!  I  can  dig  in  it !" 

"Say,  it's  the  pirate's  cave,  for  sure !" 

"You'll  find  the  skellerton  first."  This 
comforting  remark  was  volunteered  by 
Slim  Jones. 

Spot  stopped  digging. 

"Guess  I'll  come  out  now." 

"Whaffor?" 

"We'll  have  to  have  a  shovel." 

"That's  so." 

44 


Stony  Lonesome 

Silence  for  a  moment. 

"O— o !    O— o !" 

"What  is  it?" 

"I've  got  something!" 

"What  is  it?    What  is  it?" 

Spot's  head  and  hand  appeared  at  the 
opening,  the  latter  grasping  a  claw-full  of 
dirt  and  two  or  three  indelible  pencils  in 
glass  cases.  The  boys  pounced  on  them 
and  took  them  to  the  opening 
of  the  cave  to  get  a  better 
light. 

A  loud  clamor  arose  inside. 
Spot  was  trying  to  get  out  to 
examine  them  also,  but  found 
that  he  was  stuck  fast. 

"Say,  Shorty !  Shorty !  Slim  !  I  can't  get 
out!  Help!" 

The  boys  crawled  back  and  tried  to  pull 
Spot  out,  but  his  shoulders  were  wedged 
in  between  the  rocks.  He  started  to  cry, 
but  Shorty  cut  him  off. 

"Cork  up !  We.'ll  get  you  out.  Stop 
kickin'.  Let's  see  what  we'd  better  do." 

The  boys  held  a  council  of  war,  and 
then  Spot  had  another  time  of  ineffective 
squirming  and  kicking. 
45 


Stony  Lonesome 

"Say,  we'll  have  to  go  down  and  get  a 
stonecutter." 

"What,  an'  leave  me  here  all  the  after- 
noon !  No,  you  don't !" 

Slim  Jones,  who  had  been  looking 
around,  had  at  this  point  an  inspiration. 

"Get  back  in,  Spot,  an'  we'll  take  a  rock 
an'  make  the  hole  bigger." 

Spot  squirmed  back  and  with  big  stones 
the  boys  pounded  away  at  the  sides  of  the 
opening.  Chips  of  the  rock  fell  off  from 
time  to  time,  as  a  lucky  hit  was  made,  and 
soon  Spot,  torn  and  dirty,  crawled  out. 

"My  gosh  !  I  wouldn't  go  in  there  again 
for  nothin'." 

"You  crawl  in,  Shorty,"  suggested  Slim 
Jones. 

"Naw!    Git  out." 

"We'll  git  a  shovel  and  a  hammer  an' 
come  again,"  suggested  Spot. 

"That's  so." 

The  boys  eyed  the  glass  cases  and  the 
indelible  pencils  greedily. 

"Ain't  they  great?" 

"You  bet !" 

"Say,  we  must  stop  up  that  hole  again." 

The  boulder  was  rolled  back  into  place 
46 


Stony  Lonesome 

and  the  chinks  and  crevices   filled  with 
moss  and  earth. 

"There  now,  swear  not  to  tell." 
The    boys    held    up    their    heads   and 
"crossed  their   throats"  with   their   fore- 
fingers, repeating  the  formula: 

"Cross  yer  throat 

Black  and  blue! 
Lay  me  down, 
An'  cut  me  in  two!" 

As  they  were  making  their  way 
home,  laden  with  this  dark,  mysteri- 
ous secret,  the  bushes  were  pushed 
cautiously  aside,  and  the  conspira- 
tors were  watched  by  a  pair  of 
stealthy  eyes. 

Ha !  It  was  Peewee  Jackson,  the 
Avenger ! 

The  pencils  were  divided  and  Shorty 
hid  his  in  the  haymow. 

This  incident  was  destined  to  have  an 
important  influence  on  the  lives  of  the 
gang.  It  takes  a  very  small  thing  to  make 
a  boy  happy,  and  he  falls  into  the  opposite 
state  with  equal  facility.  The  hidden 
pencils  reposing  so  quietly  in  their  glass 
47 


Stony  Lonesome 


cases  became  a  tremendous  burden  on 
Shorty's  mind.  It  was  not  until  after  he 
had  gone  to  bed  that  the  terrible  situation 
flashed  upon  him.  He  wondered  that  he 
had  not  thought  of  it  before.  He  had 
read  in  the  paper  that  Spaulding's  sta- 
tionery store  had  been  entered  by  burg- 
lars. Shorty  felt  sure  that 
they  had  planted  their  plunder 
in  the  cave  and  that  he  and 
Spot  and  Slim  had  found  it. 

"My  gracious  !     What  if  we 
are  found  with  stolen  property 
in  our  possession!"  he  thought 
to  himself,  breaking  out  into 
a  cold    perspiration.     "There 
would  be  a  policeman  up  here 
in  fifteen  minutes." 
Shorty's     dreams     thereafter    became 
troubled  with  visions  of  uniforms,  detect- 
ives, reform  schools,  and  jails. 

He  ate  his  breakfast  gloomily  the  next 
morning,  and  the  cloud  did  not  rise  over 
the  Sabbath.  He  laid  the  case  before  his 
partners  in  the  crime,  and  gloom  settled 
in  a  heavy  pall  over  the  rest  of  the  gang 
also,  although  Shorty  took  the  matter 
48 


Stony  Lonesome 

most  to  heart.  On  Monday  every  boy's 
hand  appeared  to  be  against  him.  Several 
boys  knocked  his  cap  off,  and  fights  were 
narrowly  averted. 

"What  have  I  got  to  live  for,  anyway?" 
he  thought  to  himself.  "Everybody  will 
be  kicking  at  me  worse  than  ever,  when 
they  know  about  it.  I  believe  I'll  run 
away  and  go  out  on 
the  plains." 

And  Shorty  did  not 
yet  know  the  worst. 
After  the  boys  had 

left  the  cave,  Peewee  //*>"  V\  <-£ 
Jackson,  scouting  (3§>  -&J£&  0 
along  their  trail,  ^ '••'  ft  '  ^ 

made  hisway  into  the 

place  and  carefully  examined  the  traces 
left  by  them  in  their  hurried  departure. 
What  Peewee  wanted  now  was  a  clue.  If 
he  could  get  that,  he  would  hold  the  fate 
of  the  gang  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand ! 

Peewee  made  a  hurried  search  but 
could  find  nothing.  He  failed  to  notice 
the  concealed  entrance  and  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  gang  had  carried 
their  "plant"  away.  Then  he  stole  cau- 
49 


Stony  Lonesome 

tiously  through  the  forest  looking  for 
footprints  in  the  soft  mold,  carefully 
examining  the  broken  branches  and 
keeping  a  sharp  watch-out  for  Indians. 
The  thing  to  do,  he  concluded,  was  to 
shadow  Shorty  as  much  as  possible  and 
to  make  a  secret  search  of  his  barn  at 
the  first  opportunity.  Before  he  went  to 
bed  that  night  Peewee  Jackson  cuf  a  deep 
notch  in  the  handle  of  his  tomahawk, 


CHAPTER   III 

In  Which  Uncle  Ellery  Makes  a  Plea  for  an  Improved 
Order  of  Society. 

WE  LOOK  back  at  boyhood  through 
a  glamour.  In  perspective  the 
hard  lines  are  worn  away  and  the  rough 
places  take  on  the  mellowness  of  dis- 
tance. But  the  problems  that  the  boy 
has  to  face  are  as  real  as  those  of  later 
life,  although  he  usually  encounters  them 
with  a  freer  spirit  and  in  this  way  is 
more  likely  to  over-ride  them. 
Wednesday  was  always  a  partic- 
ularly trying  day  for  Shorty.  On 
the  morning  of  that  day  the  ora- 
tors of  the  public  schools  of  Stony 
Lonesome  were  given  an  enforced 
opportunity  to  fire  the  childish 
hearts  of  their  schoolmates.  This 
particular  Wednesday,  thanks  to 
the  indelible  pencils,  was  more 
than  ever  the  day  when  every- 
thing went  wrong  with  Shorty,  injj  ft7 


Stony  Lonesome 

He  took  the  platform   and   started   out 
bravely: 

"Friends,  I  come  not  here  to  talk," 

when  he  caught  Slim  Jones'  eye  and 
thought  of  the  stolen  property  in  the  hay- 
mow, and  of  the  dark  cloud  that  hung 
over  the  blighted  lives 
of  his  friends.  He  lost 
all  connection  with  the 
rest  of  the  speech  and 
took  his  seat  amid  the  de- 
risive laughter  of  the 
school.  His  soul  was  filled 
with  distaste  for  the  com- 
pany of  his  fellow  men. 
To  be  sure,  he  laughed 
louder  than  anybody  else 
when  Spot  Maloney  afterwards  marched 
to  the  edge  of  the  rostrum  and  began: 

"Stan',  the  ground's  your  own,  my  braves," 

and  then,  in  shifting  his  feet,  lost  his  bal- 
ance and  stepped  off  the  edge  of  the 
platform,  waving  his  arms  in  a  vain  effort 
to  recover  himself.  But  even  this  happy 
incident  did  not  allay  Shorty's  sense  of 
52 


Yes,  and 


his  own  humiliating  experience,  and  the 
boys  did  not  neglect  to  keep  it  alive  in 
his  breast. 

After  school  he  loafed  in  the  swing  in 
the  barn  thinking  matters  over;  and  he 
decided  that  his  prospects  in  life  had 
been  ruined  by  his  own  folly, 
not  only  that:  here  he  was  se- 
creting stolen  property  and  the 
police  likely  to  swoop  down 
upon  him  at  any  moment.  This 
was  no  ordinary  affair.  It  was  a 
matter  of  the  state's  prison  and 
hard  labor.  He  could  almost 
hear  Mrs.  Watson  saying  to  the 
neighbors: 

"I  knew  that  boy  would  come 
to  some  bad  end." 

And  here  he  was  already 
within  shooting  distance  of  ruin  and  dis- 
grace. As  Shorty  sat  in  the  swing,  twist- 
ing himself  up  and  letting  the  ropes  uncoil 
themselves,  his  attention  was  caught  by  a 
square  of  sunlight  thrown  on  the  barn 
floor  by  a  window.  The  way  it  dodged 
around  when  he  became  dizzy  puzzled 
him. 

53 


Stony  Lonesome 

"I  wonder  where  that  sunlight  goes 
when  I  ain't  looking  at  it,"  he  thought. 
"S'pose  there's  nobody  in  the  world  look- 
ing at  it,  how  do  they  know  it  is  there  ?" 

Shorty  jumped  out  of  the  swing  and 
ran  into  the  horse's  stall  to  escape  the 
sunlight.  Then  he  suddenly  jumped  out 
at  it  to  see  if  he  could  not  catch  the  beam 
in  the  act  of  falling.  No,  it  was  too  quick 
for  him.  He  puzzled  over  this  mystery 
in  a  desultory  way  and  decided  that 
nobody  knew  about  such  things  as  that. 

After  supper  it  rained  and  then  cleared 
up  again.  Shorty  stood  on  the  bridge 
over  the  railroad  track  watching  a  stream 
of  water  trickle  down  on  the  rails.  Spot 
Maloney  and  Slim  Jones  soon  joined  him 
and  became  equally  absorbed  in  the 
phenomenon. 

"Say,"  said  Spot,  "let's  dam  her  up  and 
let  her  loose  on  the  train." 

This  was  a  brilliant  idea.  The  stream 
was  soon  held  in  check  by  mud  and  leaves 
until  a  hogshead  of  water  had  accum- 
ulated that  nearly  burst  all  barriers 
by  its  own  weight.  Providence  came 
to  the  boys'  assistance  with  a  gravel 
54 


Stony  Lonesome 

train.  A  load  of  Irish  labor- 
ers sat  along  the  edges  of 
the  flat  cars  smoking  short  clay  1-^ 
pipes.  As  the  train  approached  the 
bridge  the  boys  broke  the  dam  and 
the  water  did  the  rest.  A  loud  chorus 
of  rich  and  picturesque  conversa- 
tion, accompanied  by  stones  and 
clubs,  came  flying  up  over  the  bridge, 
and  the  boys  fled  out  of  range  with 
derisive  yells  and  hoots. 

"Wasn't  that  bully?" 

"You  bet !" 

"Say,  Shorty,  see  that  sign  up  there  ?" 

"Yep." 

It  was  an  advertisement  of  a  brand  of 
tobacco  popular  in  those  days,  and  read 
in  large  letters,  "Chew  Jackson's  Best." 
A  new  bit  of  slang  was  just  coming  into 
use  in  Stony  Lonesome.  An  offended 
boy  was  accustomed  to  remark  to  an 
enemy,  "Say,  I'll  chew  your  ear."  Spot's 
alert  brain  caught  the  hint.  In  two  min- 
utes the  boys  were  at  work  with  ladders 
and  saws  robbing  other  signs  of  their  let- 
ters until  they  had  secured  the  necessary 
word.  This  they  nailed  over  the  word 
55 


Stony  Lonesome 

"best"  in  the  tobacco  sign,  and  the  care- 
less world,  careless  no  longer,  read  the 
remarkable  advice,  "Chew  Jackson's 
Ear." 

The  boys  considered  this  one  of  the 
finest  jokes  on  record,  and  had  not  the 
cloud  of  indelible  pencils  hung  over  them, 
their  cups  of  joy  would  have  run  over. 

It  may  seem  surprising  that  a  little 
thing  like  a  handful  of  indelible  pencils 
should  weigh  so  heavily  on  the  boys' 
minds,  but  the  childish  mind,  through 
racial  heredity,  is  full  of  fear.  It  is  also 
very  imaginative,  and  when  fear  is  once 
aroused  it  is  likely  to  become  dominant. 

The  boys  had  it  all  settled,  that  by 
secreting  stolen  property  they  had  be- 
come participes  criminis.  They  did  not 
dare  confess  their  discovery  for  fear  that 
they  themselves  would  be  accused  of  the 
robbery,  and  they  had  argued  it  out  that 
they  could  not  disprove  the  charge.  Did 
they  not  hold  a  part  of  the  stolen  prop- 
erty concealed  ? 

So  into  the  glorious  music  of  summer, 
with  its  freedom  and  wild  life,  with  its 
baseball,    three -old -cat,   the   swimming 
56 


Stony  Lonesome 

hole,  the  hunting  and  trapping 
expeditions,  and  the  encounters 
with  hostile  Indians,  the  indeli- 
ble pencils  wove  their  strain  of 
dissonance,  which  wore  on  the 
spirits  of  the  gang  perceptibly. 
But  just  as  men  go  to  a  philos- 
ophy or  to  a  religious  teacher 
for  help,  so  in  their  perplexity 
the  boys  were  accustomed  to 
go  to  Uncle  Ellery  Marsh;  and  to  Uncle 
Ellery,  Shorty  now  made  his  way. 

Uncle  Ellery  was  a  grown-up  boy  him- 
self. He  sympathized  with  the  ways  of 
boys  and  often  joined  in  their  plans  and 
pleasures  to  the  extent  of  leading  parties 
out  to  the  bog  after  blackberries,  or  of 
taking  part  in  some  harmless  prac- 
tical joke.  When  the  boys  called 
on  him,  Uncle  Ellery  was  wont  to 
go  on  with  his  work,  planing  or 
polishing  a  board,  accompanying 
the  operation  of  his  hands  by  a 
stream  of  talk  or  of  stories  that 
often  held  the  boys  quiet  for  half 
an  hour  or  more  at  a  time. 
"Uncle  Ellery,"  said  Shorty, 
57 


Stony  Lonesome 

standing  against  the  bench  with  his  hands 
in  his  pockets,  "I  guess  I'll  run  away." 

"Em — m — m,"  said  Uncle  Ellery,  squint- 
ing along  a  coffin  board  to  see  if  it  was 
straight,  "can't  ye  get  enough  to  eat  ?" 
"Sure!     Taint  that." 
"P'raps  you're  looking  for   adventure, 
bloodshed,   cowboys,   Indians,    and    that 
kind  of  thing." 

Slim  Jones  and  Spot  Maloney  had 
strayed  into  the  shop  and  were  run- 
ning their  fingers  along  the  edges  of 
the  tools  and  listening  gloomily. 
Shorty  became  suddenly  conscious  of 
his  prominence  in  the  conversation 
and  wriggled  uneasily. 

"N — no,  not  exactly." 
"Did  I  ever  tell  you  the  story  of  the 
wasp  and  the  bee  ?"  asked  Uncle  Ellery, 
polishing  in  the  stain  that  he  was  applying. 
"No,  what  is  it?" 

The  boys  crowded  nearer,  and  Uncle 
Ellery,  without  stopping  his  work,  began 
his  story. 

"Wai,  you  see,  it  was  something  like 
this:  The  bee  was  out  one  day  about  her 
business  as  usual,  when  a  wasp  who  hap- 
58 


Stony  Lonesome 

pened    to    meet   her   said   kind   o'   care- 
less like, 

'  'How's  the  honey  business?' 

'  'Good.  Thank  you  for  askin,'  said 
the  bee,  not  stoppin'  her  work.  'I  ain't 
got  any  complaint  to  make  of  the  year's 
results.  The  hive  is  doing  twenty  per 
cent  more  business  than  it  done  last 
year.' 

"Now,  you  boys  know  that  the  wasp  is 
one  of  those  adventurous  and  military 
swashbucklers  who  wear  their  hats  on 
one  side  and  always  carry 
their  swords  handy,  ready 
to  punish  insults.  He's 
awful  quick  to  take  offense,  too.  He  had 
been  amused  at  the  bee  for  working  so 
much,  and  as  time  was  hanging  kind  o' 
heavy  on  his  hands,  he  thought  he  would 
have  a  little  fun  at  her  expense. 

'  'I  s'pose  you  don't  mind  tellin'  me 
what  your  idea  is  in  getting  all  that  sur- 
plus honey,  do  you  ?'  he  asked,  kind  of 
lightly,  you  know,  clanking  his  sword 
against  his  heels  and  putting  on  an  easy 
air. 

'  'No.'  says  the  bee,  'I  dunno  as  I  do. 
59 


The  firm  of  Bee  &  Co.  isn't  working  for 
its  health.' 

'You  lay  up  a  lot  of  extra  stuff,' 
argued  the  wasp,  'and  the  man  that  owns 
your  hive  takes  it  all  away.' 

'  'We  pay  a  good  rent  for  protection,' 
replied  the  bee,  'and  we  are  secure  in  the 
prosecution  of  our  business.     The   hive 
always  gets  a  good  living  and  is  steadily 
growing  in  wealth  and  population.' 
"That  made  the  wasp  laugh. 
1  'We  don't  need  protection.' 
'  'No  ?'  asked  the  bee.      'I  noticed  that 
your  paper  nest  on  the  barn  rafters  was 
torn  down  by  the  boys  last  month.' 

"That  made  the  wasp  awful  mad.  He 
leaped  to  his  feet  with 
a  fierce  cuss  word 
and  drew  his  weapon. 
'  'Cusses  on  them  !' 
he  said  in  a  shrill 
voice.  'They  rued 
the  day  that  they  in- 
terfered with  us.  I 
raised  a  bump  on 
the  farmer's  child  as 
big  as  a  pumpkin. 
60 


Stony  Lonesome 

There  will  be  no  more  nest-tearing.     We 
are  rebuilding  under  the  eaves.' 

"The  bee  smiled. 

'  'We  are  taken  into  the  cellar  when 
the  cold  weather  comes.  The  wasp  peo- 
ple are  left  to  freeze  to  death.  We  pay 
for  this  and  we  get  our  money's  worth. 
Our  partnership  with  man  is  one 
of  our  most  valuable  assets.' 

"Here  a  loud  noise  arose  in  the 
barnyard.  The  wasp  jumped  to 
his  feet  and  drew  his  sword. 

'The  boys  are  attacking  your 
nest  again/  said  the  bee,  seriously. 

"Whatever  they  may  say  about 
the  wasp,  you  boys  know  that  he 
ain't  a  coward.  He  just  pulled  his 

'IfJfi'W* 

hat  down  over  his  eyes  and  jumped  "' 

in.  His  conduct  in  action  is  dreadfully 
reckless,  and  he  slashed  about  regardless, 
uttering  fierce  oaths.  His  first  victim  was 
the  boy's  father.  He  caught  him  on  the 
neck  and  lifted  him  two  feet  into  the  air. 
Then  he  struck  the  cross  bull  until  he 
saw  red  and  tipped  over  the  corn  crib. 
The  boy  ran  when  he  saw  the  trouble,  but 
another  wasp  handed  him  one  on  the 
61 


Stony  Lonesome 


stocking  that  made  him  holler.     But  the 
nest  was  in  ruins  just  the  same. 

"The  bee  watched  the  fight  a  minute  and 
then  went  back  to  her  honey  gatherin'. 

'There  is  only  one  thing  that  will  save 
them  wasp  fellows,'  she  thought,  'and  that 
is  the  growth  of  civilized  and  commercial 
idees  among  them,  instead  of  the  idees  of 
war  and  conquest.  No  na- 
tion that  is  founded  on  war 
and  lickin'  other  fellows  is 
ever  built  up  permanently; 
that  is,  for  good  and  all, 
you  know.  It  will  grow 
rich  for  a  time,  perhaps, 
from  plunder  and  big  taxes, 
but  fightin'  teaches  idees 
that  bring  their  own  pun- 
ishment. No  truly  great 
be  held  together  by  force 
Manufacturin',  trade,  and 
brotherhood  are  the  cornerstones  of  the 
beehive.  It  is  bound  to  prosper  so  long 
as  it  depends  on  these  principles.  I  can't 
see  nothin'  for  the  wasps  but  destruc- 
tion.' ' 

Uncle  Ellery,  who  was  delighted  with 
62 


nation    can 
and    fraud. 


Stony  Lonesome 

his   own   performance,  looked  wisely  at 
the  boys. 

"Wasps  ain't  no  good,  anyway,"  said 
Slim  Jones.  "They's  a  nest  under  the 
sidewalk  down  by  Shorty's  house,  and 
they  got  Mike  Quinn  on  the  leg  day 
before  yesterday." 

"Wai,"  said  Uncle  Ellery,  "they've 
probably  got  their  uses,  but  we  don't  just 
know  what  they  are.  So  they's 
fellows  who  have  to  fight  Indians 
and  kill  bears  so  the  country  can 
settle  up,  but  it  ain't  as  nice  work 
as  it's  pictured.  No,  sir,  Stony 
Lonesome's  good  enough  for 
me!" 

The  boys  wandered  off  towards 
the  river,  and  Uncle  Ellery,  smil- 
ing in  self-congratulation,  placed  another 
coffin  on  end  against  the  wall.  Then  he 
stopped  and  thought,  "I  wonder  what 
them  boys  have  got  in  their  heads.  Some 
deviltry,  probably." 

Uncle  Ellery  did  not  know  that  so  sim- 
ple  a   thing   as   a  handful    of    indelible 
pencils  was  keeping  his  old  friend  Shorty 
awake  nights.     He  thought  that  possibly 
63 


Stony  Lonesome 

the  boy  had  broken  the  window  in  the 
schoolhouse,  a  crime  which  was  at  that 
time  agitating  Stony  Lonesome. 
Or  he  figured  that  perhaps  the 
boys  knew  who  did  it  and  that 
the  strain  on  them  in  keeping 
quiet  was  the  cause  of  their 
trouble.  If  fifty  thousand 
dollars  had  been  hidden  in 
the  haymow,  and  the  boys 
had  secured  it  by  breaking 
into  the  Stony  Lonesome  Savings 
Bank,  the  weight  on  their  minds 
could  hardly  have  been  heavier.  Happily, 
the  boy  nature  is  elastic,  and  he  has 
moments  when  he  rises  above  his  bur- 
dens, whether  they  are  represented  by 
two  cords  of  wood  that  must  be  sawed 
into  stove  lengths,  or  by  the  dark  and 
treacherous  possibilities  that  are  stored 
up  in  hidden  plunder. 

If  Shorty  had  seen  the  cautious  figure 
ducking  and  doubling  around  his  barn  in 
the  search  for  the  damning  evidence  that 
would  make  a  clear  case  against  him  and 
his  gang,  the  burden  would  have  been  a 
much  more  intolerable  one.  As  it  was, 
64 


Stony  Lonesome 

both  he  and  the  other  culprits  were  bliss- 
fully unconscious  that  Peewee  was  on  the 
trail,  although  they  felt  that  the  sword  of 
justice  was  hanging  over  their  heads  by  a 
frayed  thread. 


CHAPTER   IV 


In    Which   the  Boys   Have   an  Adventure  with    the 
Big  Bell. 

WHILE  the  boys  did  not  forget 
the  terrible  cloud  of  circum- 
stantial evidence  that  their 
fertile  minds  had  called 
down  upon  them,  there 
//_j  were,  nevertheless,  bright 
spots  in  the  darkness.  They 
were,  to  be  sure,  living  over 
a  sleeping  volcano  that  might 
blow  them  sky  high  at  any  moment; 
but  where  danger  is  constant  we  grow 
familiar  with  it,  and  even  take  a  little 
importance  to  ourselves  over  our  imper- 
turbability. 

The  boys  were  desperately  afraid  that 
one  of  them  would  tell  his  father  of  the 
find,  or  would  throw  himself  on  the  mercy 
of  the  court,  and  they  pledged  each  other 
to  keep  the  secret  until  they  could  agree 
on  what  should  be  done.  Meantime, 
everything  was  going  on  without  a  jar, 
66 


Stony  Lonesome 

and    every   day   brought    its    compensa- 
tions. 

"Say,  Shorty,  I'll  tell  you  what  let's  do," 
said  Spot  one  Wednesday  afternoon; 
"let's  set  her." 

The  inspiration  seized  him  as  he  stood 
with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  looking 
at  the  big  Baptist  church  steeple. 

"Let's  set  the  bell!" 

"Gosh!   We  can't  do  it." 

"Aw,  yes  we  can.  We'll 
tie  the  tongue  an'  ring  'er 
up.  Then  one  fellow  can 
hold  her  an'  the  other  un- 
tie the  tongue  an'  we'll 
move." 

"Gosh !     But   what   if  she   fell  over 
before  we  got  away  ?" 

The  boys  stood  looking  at  each  other 
in  awe  over  this  fearful  possibility.  The 
project  they  had  in  mind  was  to  "set"  the 
Baptist  bell,  a  monster  chunk  of  noisy 
metal  that  called  the  people  of  Stony 
Lonesome  to  church  on  Sunday,  rang  the 
noon  hour,  a  curfew  alarm  at  9  p.m.,  and 
was  used  by  anybody  and  everybody  in 
case  of  fire  or  of  flood.  "Setting  the  bell," 
67 


Stony  Lonesome 

as  it  is  technically  termed,  is  ringing  it  up 
until  it  "stands  on  its  head"  and  balances 
there,  ready  to  tip  over  with  a  tremendous 
clangor  at  the  least  pull  of  the  rope. 

There  was  a  science  to  bell  ringing  of 
the  old-fashioned  order,  in  which  every 
boy  longed  to  become  an  expert.  The 
rope  was  attached  to  the  wheel  in  such 
a  way  that  there  was  first  the  long  pull, 
then  what  is  known  as  the  "back  stroke." 
The  ringer  caught  this  stroke  with  a  quick 
pull,  adding  to  the  impetus  of  the  bell 
until  it  was  finally  "set,"  or  balanced,  with 
its  mouth  open  to  the  sky.  As  the  rope 
slowed  up  before  the  bell  tipped  over  the 
other  way,  the  expert  operator  seized  it 
and  held  the  bell  easily  on  the  balance. 
If  he  was  not  an  expert,  the  bell  went 
over  before  he  caught  it,  and  he  was 
either  carried  up  and  bumped  against 
the  ceiling,  or  had  a  pair  of  skinned  hands 
to  show  to  his  friends.  Ringing  the  bell 
after  it  was  set  consisted  in  tipping  the 
bell  over  and  up  the  other  side  and  bring- 
ing it  back  to  a  set  again,  with  a  long  pull 
of  the  rope,  the  bell  giving  out  two  mighty 
notes: 

68 


Stony  Lonesome 

"Boom — m — m—      —Boom — m — m  !" 
Shorty   Hitchcock   and   Spot  Maloney 
had  often  watched  the  scientific  work  of 
the  policeman  whom  Stony  Lonesome 
employed  to  ring  the  noon  and  nine 
o'clock  alarms.     In  case  of   fire   their 
first  impulse  was  to  practice  on  the  bell 
and  to  let  the  fire  go  for  a  half  hour  or 
so  on  the  risk  that  they  were  proclaim- 
ing a  false  alarm. 

But  to-day,  as  they  were  going  by  the 
church,  a  new  and  unfortunate  idea  had 
taken  shape  in  the  mind  of  Spot  Ma- 
loney, filling  his  heart  with  suppressed 
excitement. 

"Gosh!  We'll  set  'er  an'  leave  'er  set !" 
The  idea  was  to  give  the  next  per- 
son who  attempted  to  ring  the 
bell  a  surprise  that  would  lead 
him  to  think  the  building  was 
falling.      The     door    of    the 
vestibule  of   the  church   was 
always  open  to  give  access  to 
the  bell  rope  in  case  of  fire, 
but  the  boys,  to  their  disgust, 
found  the  door  to  the  steeple  stairs  care- 
fully locked.     Spot,  who  lived  near  by, 
69 


Stony  Lonesome 


hurried  home  to  get  a  collection  of  keys, 
while  Shorty  sat  down  in  the  cool  vesti- 
bule and  read  Moccasin  Mose,  the  Avenger. 
When  Spot  came  back  with  half  a 
dozen  keys,  their  high  hopes  were  soon 
extinguished.  Not  a  key  would  fit. 

The   boys   walked    around    the    great 
barn-like  structure,  and  in  their  desper- 
ation   meditated    climbing    the 
trees   and   trying  to  drop  from 
them   to   the    roof.     Even    this 
wild  venture  would  have  proved 
useless,  for  the  steeple  towered 
high  above  the  sloping  roof. 
"Say,  Spot !" 
"What?" 

"Where  d'you  s'pose  that  cel- 
lar window  goes  to  ?" 

"I  dunno." 
The  basement  of  the  church  was  in  the 
rear,  and  the  front  part  or  vestibule  was 
built  with  the  floor  about  a  foot  above  the 
ground.     Even   a  dog  would   have   had 
trouble  in  crawling  under  it,  but  the  boys 
were  equal  to  almost  anything  in  the  line 
of  strategy,  and  they  wormed  themselves 
through  the  opening  and  scraped  along 
70 


Stony  Lonesome 

between  tne  cobwebby  floor  and  the  damp 
ground. 

"Say,  Spot !" 
"What?" 

"What  if  we  should  get  caught  in  here 
and  couldn't  get  out  ?" 
"Gosh !" 

"Or  s'pose  a  cattymount  had  cubs  in  a 
nest  in  under  here  !" 
"Or  a  skunk !" 

The  boys  stopped  worming  along  and 
listened. 

"I  don't  see  no  fiery  eyes  shinin'  in 
the  dark,  way  they  did  in  Deadwood 
Dick's  cave,  do  you  ?" 
"Naw.  What's  the  use  of  bein'  afraid?" 
"Say !" 
"What?" 

"Why   couldn't   we  dig  this  out   up 
near  the  wall  an'  have  a  cave  ?" 

"My    g'oodness,   haven't    we 
'^s  ^       got  into  trouble  enough  with 
caves  ?    I    seen   a    detective 
lookin'  at  my  barn  yester- 
day." 

Spot  turned   sick  and 
white  with  fear. 


Stony  Lonesome 

"You  never  either.    You're  lyin'." 

"Well,  p'raps  it  wasn't  a  detective.  I 
looked  to  see  if  I  couldn't  see  that  he  had 
a  star  on  his  vest  an'  I  saw  somethin' 
glitter.  P'raps  'twas  a  secret  society 
badge." 

"Sure,  'twas  a  badge.  Say,  Shorty, 
don't  you  let  on  to  your  father  nothin' 
about  them  pencils." 

"Well,  I  guess  not." 

"Swear  it  ?" 

"Sure,  I'll  swear  it." 

"Hold  up  your  hand." 

Shorty  held  up  one  grimy  paw  as  best 
he  could  in  his  cramped  position,  and  said: 

"I  promise  never  to  tell  about  the  plun- 
der until  we  all  agree  to  tell  together. 
Now  you  swear,  Spot." 


Stony  Lonesome 

Spot  took  a  similar  oath. 

"My  gracious,"  said  Shorty,  "if  they 
caught  us  they'd  slam  us  into  the  reform 
school  in  fifteen  minutes.  Don't  you  ever 
let  on  to  Peewee  Jackson,  will  you  ?" 

"Peewee !"  cried  Spot  with  the  utmost 
contempt.  "Wai,  I  guess  not." 

"I've  seen  him  twice  around 
barn.  You  don't  s'pose  he's  on,  do 
you?'' 

"Naw." 

"Well,  I  hope  not.  He'd  do  us  up 
in  ten  minutes.  Let's  move  over 
where  it's  lighter." 

The   boys   squirmed   over   toward 
the   front  wall  where  a  dim  ray  of  light 
shone  down. 

"Say!" 

"What  ?" 

"Look  at  this  light.  Gol  durn,  if  here 
isn't  a  way  up  into  the  belfry !" 

Both  boys  looked  up  between  a  curve 
in  the  plastering  and  the  outer  wall  of  the 
church,  which  seemed  to  run  up  into  the 
depths  of  space. 

"Say,  I  bet  we  can  nail  some  cleats  on 
them  beams  and  climb  her." 
73 


"O — o,   look !     Here's   the    cleats    the 
carpenter  left.     I'm  going  to  shin  her." 
"Say,  you'll  fall  and  break  your  neck." 
"Naw,  I  won't  neither." 

Spot  clambered  up  the  side 
of  the  wall  like  a  monkey,  and 
pretty  soon  Shorty  heard  him 
whisper  back: 

"Come  on,  I'm  in  the  attic." 
The  wild  sense  of  adventure, 
craftiness,  and  Indian  cunning 
had  full  control  now,  and 
Shorty  clambered  up  and  soon 
crouched  under  the  roof  be- 
side his  brother  desperado. 
They  crawled  carefully  along 
the  rafters  and  finally,  breath- 
less and  perspiring,  covered 
with  cobwebs,  dust,  and  dirt, 
sat  gleefully  together  on  the 
belfry  ladder. 

"Ain't  this  great !" 
"Bully  good !     It  beats  Injuns." 
They  looked  up  to  the  trapdoor  into 
the  belfry. 

"Gosh  !     Hope  she  ain't  locked !" 
"If  she  is,  we'll  bust  her." 
74 


"Do  we  darst  to  fix  the  bell  ?" 

"Course." 

"What  if  they'd  catch  us  ?" 

"They'd  send  us  to  the  reform  school, 
sure." 

"Naw,  they  wouldn't.  My  father'd  get 
us  off." 

"Pa'd  lam  me  good,  though." 

"Naw,  he  wouldn't.  Yer  ma'd  beg 
him  off." 

"We'll  chanst  it,  anyway." 

The  boys  made  their  way 
to  the  trapdoor  and  found 
it  unlocked.  They  pushed 
it  up  and  clambered  into 
the  little  aerial  chamber, 
latticed  in  from  observation 
from  the  street,  where  the 
bell  hung  like  a  great  sleeping  creature. 
The  boys  were  awe-struck  at  its  size  and 
at  the  ponderous  beams  of  wood  that 
supported  it.  Spot  began  to  get  uneasy. 

"Gosh  !  Let's  not  tie  'er.  What  if  they 
should  ring  for  a  fire  after  we'd  got  her 
fixed  ?" 

"We'd  holler  down  to  them  to  quit  till 
we  untied  her." 

75 


Stony  Lonesome 

"Yes,  and  get  lammed  by  the  big  police- 
man." 

"No,  we  wouldn't.  We'd  sneak  down 
between  the  plasterin'  and  they'd  never 
find  us." 

"That's  so  —  but  —  gol  durn  —  I  don't 
like  it!" 

"Aw,  what  you  'fraid  of?     Gorry,  but 
we  ain't  got  any  string !" 
"Take  your  jacket." 
This    suggestion    was    instantly   acted 
upon.     Spot  slipped  off  his  coat,  and  in  a 
few  moments  it  was  wrapped  around  the 
tongue  of  the  bell,  and  the  sleeves  tied 
carefully  around  one  of  the  clappers, 
firmly  securing  the  tongue  to  the  side 
of  the  bell. 

"Le's  pull  'er  up. 

The  boys  stood  on  the  wheel  and 
pushed,  but  in  vain.    The  great  mass 
of  metal  would  not  move  through 
more  than  a  quarter  of  the  cir- 
cle at  the  best  they  could  do. 

"We'll  have  to  go  down  into 
the  attic  an'  ring  her  up." 

"Gosh!     I  hope  there  won't 
be  a  fire !" 
76 


Perspiring  and  excited,  the  boys  slipped 
down  through  the  trapdoor  into  the  attic, 
where  the  bell  rope  ran  through  the  floor 
into  the  vestibule  below. 

"Git  hold  of  her,  Shorty;  hurry  up !" 

A  creaking  and  groaning  was  heard 
above  as  the  great  bell  answered  to  the 
first  sturdy  pulls  on  the  rope. 

"Ketch  the  back  stroke," 
gasped    Spot.     "Lam  it  to 
Now,  together !" 


er. 

Shorty  said  nothing,  but 
he  panted  and  pulled  till  his 
eyes  stood  out  like  marbles 
and  his  breath  came  in 
quick  gasps. 

"Now  be  ready  to  catch 
'er.  She's  almost  up." 

The  rope  slacked  a  bit,  then  began  to 
run  up  a  little  faster.  The  bell  was  just 
over  the  center  of  gravity.  Both  boys 
grabbed  the  rope  with  desperation  and 
held  the  bell  in  place. 

"Bully!  She's  set!  She's  set!  Now 
balance  her." 

The  rope  was  pulled  down  just  a  trifle 
and  seemed  to  stick.     The  boys  let  go  of 
77 


T 


it  carefully.  They  knew  the  great  bell 
was  poised  in  mid-air  above  them,  and 
would  stay  there  until  blown  or  pulled 
over.  They  hurried  up  into  the  belfry, 
where  they  wrestled  with  the  mighty 
problem  of  getting  Spot's  coat  from 
the  tongue. 

"Take  your  jacket  and  tie  the  wheel, 
Shorty,"  said  Spot. 

This  was  no  sooner  said  than  done. 
Every  moment  was  now  precious,  for 
something  might  happen  at  any  time — 
something  momentous  and  epochal.  The 
wheel  was  secured,  and  Spot  climbed  onto 
the  frame,  leaned  over  the  mouth  of  the 
great  bell  and  undid  the  sleeves  of  his 
jacket  from  the  clapper.  The 
bell  was  free  to  speak  again. 
The  wheel  was  then  released, 
and  the  bell  was  ready  for  busi- 
ness at  the  touch  of  the  rope. 
The  boys  were  too  excited 
to  say  a  word.  They  made  a 
plunge  for  the  trapdoor,  hur- 
ried down  the  stairs,  and  began 
to  worm  their  way  between 
the  plastering  and  the  wall  in 
78 


dead  silence.  It  was  too  critical  a  time 
for  speech. 

They  were  soon  on  the  ground,  and  the 
snake  process  of  reaching  the  cellar  win- 
dow began.  Shorty  reached  it  first  and 
was  about  to  crawl  out,  when  suddenly 
he  drew  back,  bumping  Spot's  head  with 
his  feet  and  evoking  much  smothered 
protest  from  that  excited  person. 

"Shut  up  !     Durn,  if  there  ain't— 

"Gosh!     It  ain't  the  police?" 

"No;  keep  still;  it's  the  sexton  !" 

The  boys  were  as  silent  as  specters,  as 
that  hard-working  and  little-appreciated 
gentleman  walked  by  the  window  and 
into  the  church  to  give  it  the  weekly 
sweeping  and  airing.  They  could  hear 
his  step  over  their  heads  in  the  vestibule. 
He  walked  by  the  bell  rope  without  look- 
ing at  it,  unlocked  the  inner  doors,  and 
the  boys  heard  him  rummaging  around 
inside. 

"Say !" 

"What  ?" 

"We  got  ter  move." 

The  desperadoes  crawled  out  of  the 
window  and  doubled  over  like  Delawares 
79 


Stony  Lonesome 

on  the  trail.  They  fled  around  the  corner 
of  the  church  and  down  Chickabiddy 
Lane.  They  didn't  stop  to  consult,  but 
instinctively  separated  and  made 
for  their  homes. 

Away  up  in  the  air  the  conscious 
bell  stood  poised  like  Mercury  on 
tiptoe,  waiting  to  leap  into  the  sky 
from  some  Grecian  hilltop.  The 
boys  held  another  important  secret  locked 
in  their  breasts  and  they  were  miserably 
happy. 

"Goodness  gracious !"  exclaimed   Mrs. 
Hitchcock  at  supper   time. 
"What  on  earth's  the  mat- 
ter with  that  boy  ?" 

Shorty  jumped  with  ter- 
ror at  the  possibility  of  dis- 
covery. 

"Ain't  nothin',"  he  said 
indignantly.  "What's  the 
matter?" 

"What  are  you  fidgeting 

around   for   and  listening  all  the   time  ? 

Where  did  you  get  all  that  mud  and  those 

cobwebs   on   you  ?     Why   don't   you    eat 

80 


your  supper  ?    I'll  have  to  give  you  a  dose 
of  sas'prilla,  I  guess." 

"I  don't  want  no  sas'prilla.  I  ain't 
hungry  to-night." 

"Well,  you  go  out  on  the  porch  and 
brush  yourself." 

Shorty  went  out  on  the  porch  with  the 
brush  and  was  flapping  it  around  in  the 
useless  and  rebellious  way  in  which  boys 
brush  their  clothes,  now  and  then  looking 
through  the  trees  where  the  Baptist 
steeple  seemed  to  stand  out  as  if  the 
landscape  had  a  sore  thumb. 

"Say,  Shorty !" 

It  was  Spot  Maloney.  He  looked 
sneaking  and  apprehensive,  and  he  stood 
half  behind  a  tree,  Indian  fashion,  to  pre- 
vent the  white  scouts  from  General  Brad- 
dock's  army,  who  were  everywhere 
around,  from  getting  a  shot  at  him. 

"Been  to  supper?" 

"Yep." 

"Come  out  here  a  minnit." 

Shorty  laid  the  brush  on  the  window 
sill,  and  dodged  from  tree  to  tree  to  avoid 
stray  bullets. 

"Say,  she  ain't  gone  off  yet." 
81 


•Nop." 

"Do  you  know  wnat  night  it  is?" 
"No." 

"It's    Wednesday !      To-night's   prayer 
meetin',  an'  they  toll  the  bell  at  quarter 
past  seven !" 
"Gosh!    So 'tis." 

The  boys  had  been  counting  on  having 
the  bell  go  off  at  nine  o'clock 
when  the  policeman  rang  the 
curfew,  but  they  had  forgotten 
that  it  was  meeting  night,  and 
that  a  noisy  clamor  at  that 
time  would  be  little  short  of 
scandalous. 

"Say,  do  you  'spose  when  the 
rope  conies  running  down,  it  will 
curl  'round  old  Bill  Kendall's  neck 
and  jerk  him  up  to  the  ceilin'  ?" 

Spot  looked  the  picture  of  an- 
guish as  he  suggested  this  awful 
possibility  of  injury  to  the  sexton. 
"Gorry  !    I  never  thought  of  that. 
'Twould  break  his  durn  old  neck." 
"You  bet  it  would !" 
The  boys  looked  at  eacn  other 
in  wild  surmise. 
82 


Stony  Lonesome 


"What  would  they  do  to  us  ?" 
"It  would  be  murder,  wouldn't  it?" 
"Say,    we    better    go    down    an' 
tell  'im." 

"P'raps  'twouldn't   be  murder  if 
we  didn't  go  to  do  it." 

"Let's  try  and  see  what  we  better 
do." 

Spot  Maloney  held  out  the  back 
of  his  hand  and  carefully  spit  on  it. 
Then    with   the    forefinger   of   the 
other  hand,  he  struck  a  quick  blow.    The 
omen  flew  in  a  direction  away  from  the 
church,  and  the  boys  were  much  relieved. 
"It  says,  'Keep  away  from  the  church,' ' 
said  Shorty.     "I  guess  we'll  chanst  it." 

"Let's  go  up  on  top  of  the  barn  and 
hear  her  go  off." 

The  boys  scrambled  up  on  the  hen- 
house and  climbed  the  side  of  the  barn 
roof,  pulling  themselves  up  by  the  shingles 
where  they  projected  over  the 
edge. 

Seated  astride  the  ridgepole 
they  had  a  good  view   of  the 
town  with  its  steeples  and  roofs. 
The  sun  was  setting,  and   the 
83 


Stony  Lonesome 

western  heavens  were  a  blaze  of  light. 
People  were  walking  down  the  street  after 
supper  to  see  the  train  come  in.  Some 
of  the  boys  were  playing  a  vociferous 
game  of  baseball  over  on  the  muster  field. 

In  the  quiet  the  bell  of  the  Congrega- 
tional church  began  to  toll  clear  and  sweet 
for  prayer  meeting.  Immediately  the 
Methodist  bell  took  up  the  strain. 

"Say,  why  don't  she  go?  S'pose  he 
is  on?" 

The  boys  were  becoming  apprehensive. 
Suddenly 

Boom! ! — Boom  ! ! — Bangerty  bang ! ! — 
Boom  !  Boom  ! !  Boomerty  Boom  ! ! 
Bangerty  Bang-er-ty — Boom  ! !  Boom- 
boom  —  boom  —  boom  —  boom  —  boom — 
boom  —  boom  —  boom  — 

"Say,  warn't  that  great !  He's  got  her 
stopped,  you  see,  and  is  tolling  her.  That 
shows  it  didn't  break  his  neck." 

"You  bet !     Wasn't  that  bully !" 

The  boys  climbed  down  the  barn  chuck- 
ling and  punching  each  other  and  trying 
to  see  which  one  could  knock  the  other 
off  and  break  his  leg  or  arm.  Failing  of 
this  innocent  enjoyment,  they  made  their 
84 


Stony  Lonesome 

way  over  to  the  muster  field  and  were 
soon  working  their  way  to  the  bat,  in  a 
hot  game  of  scrub. 

Meanwhile,  Bill  Kendall,  the  sexton, 
tolled  away  at  the  bell,  grumbling  to 
himself. 


CHAPTER  V 

In  Which  It  Becomes  Necessary  to  Found  the  "Patriots' 
Defense  Society." 

W HATCHER  grinnin  at?" 
"Nothin'." 

Shorty    sat    on    the    green- 
sward in  front  of  Peewee  Jack- 
son's  house,   whittling   out   a 
wooden    tomahawk.     Peewee 
was  standing  inside  the  fence 
that  surrounded  the  yard,  eat- 
ing an  apple  and  smiling  provokingly. 
"Whatcher  grinnin'  at  ?" 
"Nothin'." 

"Then  you  better  saw  off." 
"Guess  I've  got  a  license  to  grin!" 
"Show  it  up." 
"Don't  hafter." 
"Oh,  don't?" 
"No." 

"If  you  know  anything  worth  grinnin' 
at,  you  better  let  her  out." 

"I  don't  tell  all  I  know    till  the  time 
comes." 

86 


Shorty  stopped  work  and  looked 
in  suspicion  at  Peewee,  who  con- 
tinued to  eat  his  apple  with  every 
appearance  of  great  good 
nature.    This  fact  was  in 
itself     suspicious.     As     a 
general  thing  Peewee  was 
glum. 

"Yes'm." 

Some  one  from  the  house  called  Peewee, 
and  as  he  went  in  he  turned  toward 
Shorty,  wagged  his  hand  knowingly  and 
remarked: 

"I'm  onto  you  fellers.  Tellin'  about  me 
cuttin'  the  hose  !  There's  worse  things 
than  cuttin'  the  hose,  an'  I  never  did  it 
neither,  by  gosh !" 

Peewee  disappeared  into  the  house, 
leaving  Shorty  in  a  cold  perspiration. 
How  far  did  Peewee's  dangerous  knowl- 
edge extend  ?  Could  he  have  found 
the  pencils  in  the  haymow  ?  Shorty 
made  a  bee  line  for  home,  and  looking 
around  and  seeing  that  he  was 
unobserved,  he  entered  the  barn 
and  reached  his  hand  under  one 
corner  of  the  mow. 
87 


Stony  Lonesome 


He  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief 
when  he  found  that  the  pencils 
were  safe  in  their  place.  He 
must  find  Spot. 

Spot  was  doing  a  little  some- 
thing in  wood  in  connection  with  a  buck 
saw,  and  he  was  doing  it  with  very  bad 
grace.  That  he  kept  at  work  at  all  was 
due  to  the  presence  of  Mrs.  Maloney  at 
the  kitchen  window.  When  he  faltered, 
which  was  often,  she  held  him  to  the 
work  by  the  force  of  mind. 

"I've  got  to  saw  and  split  ten  sticks 
before  I  get  loose,"  said  Spot  disconso- 
lately. " 

"Let's  push  her  right  through,"  said 
Shorty.  "I've  got  something  to  tell  you. 
Pick  out  ten  small  ones." 

"The   small   ones   was   all   picked 
yesterday,"  said  Spot.  "Those  there 
is  the  smallest  they  is." 

"Chuck  one  of  'm  on  the  buck," 
said  Shorty,  "and  I'll  try  it. 
We'll  take  turn  on  and  turn 
off.    Any    man    that    stops 
before  he  saws  her  through    I 
is  poisoned."  I 


out 


Stony  Lonesome 

Under  this  stimulus  the  ten  sticks  were 
soon  eaten  up,  and  the  boys,  after  drink- 
ing a  quart  of  water,  went  out  behind  the 
barn.  Here  Shorty  outlined  his  conver- 
sation with  Peewee  and  found  Spot  prop- 
erly harrowed  in  soul  by  the  revelation. 

"My  gosh  !  It  looks  as  though  he'd  got 
us.  What  are  we  goin'  to  do  ?" 

"Oh,  we  ain't  goin'  to  give  up.  We 
kin  sarcumvent  him  yet." 

Shorty  had  been  faithfully  reading  the 
Deerslayer  stories  and  often  fell  into  the 
Natty  Bumpoo  dialect. 

"Besides,  we  don't  know  that  he  knows 
anything  about — them  !" 

Shorty  pointed  knowingly  to  the  barn 
where  the  pencils  lay  hidden. 

"Say,  I'll  tell  you  what  let's  do.  We 
ought  never  to  say  'pencils.' '  Spot  whis- 
pered the  word.  "When  we  talk  about 
them  let's  hold  up  four  fingers,  like  that. 
That's  our  secret  sign." 

"Bully  good!" 

"Say,  it's  great !" 

"Why  not  get  up  a  secret  society  with 
pass  words  and  signs  and  call  it  the  'Patri- 
ots' Defense  Society'  ?"  asked  Shorty. 
89 


Stony  Lonesome 

"Why  'patriots'  ?"  asked  Spot. 

"Because  we  ain't  done  nothin'.  We 
never  stole  the — 

At  the  missing  word  Shorty  held  up 

four  fingers.     The  boys  were  delighted 

with  the  scheme.     No  detective  could 

ever  penetrate  such  a  brilliant  disguise 
of  the  facts. 

"Say,  we've  got  to  take  in  Slim  Jones. 
He  is  in  on  the  deal  and  knows  about 
the "  (Four  fingers  again.) 

"Of  course.    He's  in  it  as  bad  as  we  are." 

"Say,  on  the  way  over  let's  go  in  and 
look  at  Balmy  Wilson's  red  herring's  egg." 

When  there  was  an  opportunity  the 
boys  always  stopped  to  look  at  this  curi- 
osity. No  other  boy  in  town  had  a  heron's 
egg,  and  this  one  was  priceless. 

"Balmy  never  found  that  egg  himself!" 

"Naw!  Red  herring's  don't  lay  near 
this  town.  Balmy's  cousin  in  Michigan 
sent  it  to  him." 

"How  do  you  know?  Balmy  let  on  to 
me  that  he  found  her  out  to  the  bog." 

"He  never!    Old  Wilson  told  my  father 
that  it  came  in  the  post  office,  wrapped 
up  in  cotton  batting." 
90 


Stony  Lonesome 

"That  so?     It's  an  awful  scarce  egg." 

"My  hen  hawk's  egg's  scarce,  too." 
'Tain't  so  scarce  as  a  red  herring's." 

"Oh,  I  dimno." 

"How  did  you  find  her?" 

"Slim  Jones  found  the  nest  in  a 
great  big  pine  tree.  He  couldn't 
shin  her." 

"Did  he  tell  you?" 

"Yep.  He  said  if  I  could  shin  her,  I 
could  have  first  pick." 

"Was  it  a  tough  shin  ?" 

"You  bet  ye !  The  nest  was  made  of 
sticks  an'  there  was  two  eggs  in  her  and 
a  little  hen  hawk." 

"A  little  hen  hawk  is  a  chicken  hawk, 
ain't  it  ?" 

"I  dunno.     P'raps." 

"Did  you  kill  the  young  one?" 

"No,  I  divvied  with  the  birds.  I  took 
the  eggs  an'  they  took  the 
young  one.  One  of  the  eggs 
was  picked." 

"Did  you  give  Slim  Jones 
the   picked   egg  ?" 

"You  bet !  'Twas  my  first  choice.  His 
picked  egg  hatched  that  night  in  his 


Stony  Lonesome 

c'llection  and  the  chicken  broke  his  fly- 
catcher's egg." 
"Thunder!" 
"Yes.     He  killed  it." 
"How  many  eggs  has  Slim  got?" 
"He's  got  twenty-three.    I've  got  thirty- 
two." 

By  this  time  the  boys  had  reached 
Balmy  Wilson's  house,  and  Shorty 
whistled  on  his  fingers  like  a  circular 
saw  striking  a  pine  knot. 

No  one  knew  why  Henry  Wilson 
was  called  Balmy.  The  name  sprang 
up  spontaneously,  and  no  one 
thought  of  calling  him  anything 
else. 

"Say,  Balmy,  let's  see  yer  red  her- 
ring's egg." 
"All  right !" 

The  boy  was  immensely  flattered 
by  the  attention  pajd  to  his  prize  and  he 
hurried  in  to  procure  it. 
"Ain't  she  abeute!" 
"You  bet !" 

"Say,  Balmy,  I'll  give  yer  my  hen  hawk's 
egg,  two  peewee  eggs,  and  a  flycatcher's 
for  her." 

92 


"Naw !  That  egg's  wuth  most  a  hun- 
dred dollars.  They're  awful  scarce." 

"They  are  pretty  scarce." 

"I'll  throw  in  my  pearl-handled  knife 
and  a  ball  of  fish  line." 

"Naw,  I  won't  trade.  Red  herrings' 
eggs  is  scarce." 

The  egg  passed  carefully  from  hand 
to  hand. 

"She  ain't  been  blowed." 

"No.  I  didn't  dast  to  pick  her.  Afraid 
she'd  bust." 

"When  they  ain't  blowed  they  bust  on 
yer  sometimes."- 

"I  guess  she  won't  bust." 

"P'raps  not." 

"I  had  a  flycatcher's  egg  bust  in  my 
mouth  once." 

The  boys  often  carried  eggs  in  their 
mouths  to  protect  the  thin  shells,  and  this 
catastrophe  was  not  an  uncommon  one. 

"How  did  she  taste?" 

"Awful !  I  chewed  grass  and  leaves  to 
get  the  taste  out.  I  guess  the  egg  was  a 
bad  one." 

"Well,  come  on,  Spot;  let's  go  on 
Good-by,  Balmy!" 

93 


"Good-by!" 

Slim  was  up  in  his  barn  chamber  mak- 
ing a  squirrel  trap,  but  he  knocked  off 
work  when  the  boys  appeared. 

"Say,  fellers,  if  you  will  keep  shut 
up,  I'll  show  you  something." 
"What  is  it?" 
"Promise  not  ter  tell  ?" 
"Black  and  blue !" 
Slim  led  the  way  to  the  haymow. 
"Yer  won't  give  it  away  ?" 
"No,  honest." 

The  fat  boy  thrust  his  hand  into 
the  mow  on  the  side  of  the  barn  and 
produced  a  mysterious  bottle. 
"What's  in  that  ?" 
"I  dunno.     Pa  had  some  of 
it  in  the  cellar  and  I  swiped  one 
bottle  last  night  and  hid  her." 
"Let's  taste  her." 
"I'll  give  you  a  swig  if  you 
won't  tell." 

"All    right.     Honest   Injun ! 
Hope  ter  die!" 

Slim  made  another  dive  into  the  hay 
and  produced  the  half  of  a  cocoanut  shell 
with  a  hole  in  it.    He  handed  it  to  Shorty. 
94 


"Put  your  finger  over  the  hole." 

Shorty  did  so,  and  Slim  poured  out  a 
few  drops  of  the  liquid,  which  Shorty  dis- 
posed of  in  a  gulp.. 

'That's  bully !" 

"You  bet !" 

The  other  boys  all  had  a  sample,  Slim 
taking  a  double  allowance  for  himself. 

"What  do  you  call  her?" 

"I  dunno.  It  sounds  something  like 
that  new  sickness." 

Shorty  tried  to  pronounce  cerebro- 
spinal  meningitis,  which  was  at  that  time 
just  coming  into  popular  notice. 

"That's  it,  only  it  isn't.     I  can't  call  it." 

After  this  the  drink  was  always  referred 
to  as  "c'rebro."  I  have  never  been  able  to 
ascertain  what  it  was,  though  I  suspect 
that  it  may  have  been  raspberry  shrub. 

"Say,  Slim,  want  to  join  the  Patriots' 
Defense  Society?" 

"Naw!    What  is  it?" 

"Well,  we   are  afraid  Peewee  Jackson 
knows   about   the  -        '  (four  fingers     cx  !•',,% 
again),  "and  we  are  going  to  sarcum- 
vent  him." 

"What's  that  four  fingers?" 
95 


Stony  Lonesome 


"You  tell  him,  Spot." 
Spot  took  Slim  carefully  aside  and  im- 
parted the  secret   in  a  whisper.     When 

Slim  finally  caught  the  idea,  he 

liked  it.  It  held  in  it  the  mys- 
tery and  secrecy  so  dear  to  the 
boy  heart. 

"I'll  be  president  of  the  soci- 
ety," said  Henry,  "and  we'll  have 
a  new  president  every  week  so 
as  to  throw  the  detectives  off 
the  scent." 

"Let's   have   some    more    signs,"    sug- 
gested Slim. 

'What's  signs  ?" 

"Why,  like  the  four  fingers.  When  we 
want  to  give  warning,  we'll  hold  one 
finger  on  each  hand  up  in  the  air  at  arm's 
length,  like  this.  That  will  mean, 
'Patriots,  beware!'  " 

"Good  enough!"  said  Shorty.  "And 
fingers  on  one  hand  crossed  means, 
'Let  the  spy  die.'     Fingers  on   two 
hands  crossed  means,  'Run  for  your  life. 
Danger !'  " 

A  number  of  other  signs  were  agreed 
on,  and  the  boys,  finding  too  much  exer- 
96 


cise  on  the  idea  wearing  to  their  minds, 
started  off  to  go  in  swimming.  They 
made  their  way  to  the  river,  stopping  by 
the  way  to  pull  a  few  bricks  out  of  a  loose 
corner  of  the  schoolhouse,  to  stone  the 
hornets;  and  to  peer  into  a  robin's  nest 
to  see  if  the  eggs  had  hatched.  As  soon 
as  they  came  into  view  of  the  river  behind 
the  small  soap  factory,  they  began  to  dis- 
robe on  the  run. 

"Last  one  in  has  got  to  shin  a  tree  back- 
ward !    No  lubber  on  the  one  that  said  it !" 

Shinning  a  tree  backward  was  the  pen- 
alty always  exacted  from  the  last  boy  to 
get  into  the  water,  and  Slim  Jones,  be- 
cause of  his  avoirdupois,  was  usually  the 
victim.  There  was,  however,  one  remedy. 
By  crying  out,  "Lubber  on  the  one 
who  said  it !"  the  penalty  was  trans- 
ferred to  the  boy  who  raised  the  cry; 
but  if  he  first  cried,  "No  lubber  on 
the  one  who  said  it !"  the  danger  was 
averted. 

The  glorious  picture  made  by  Slim 

Jones  vainly  trying  to  climb  a  tree 

head  downward,  called  out  wild  yells 

of  encouragement  that  attracted  the 

97 


workmen  in  the  factory  to  the 
windows. 

While  Slim  was  trying  to 
perform  his  impossible  feat, 
the  other  boys  tied  his  shirt 
into  a  hard  knot,  which  they 
secured  by  wetting  it.  Spot 
also  placed  a  heavy  stone  on 
Slim's  straw  hat.  Such  tricks 
as  these  represent  a  boy's  idea  of  humor. 
The  gang  dived,  swam  under  water, 
tried  "to  fetch  bottom,"  sat  in  a  row  on 
the  wharf,  and  fought  and  lied  and  told 
the  usual  boy  legends;  then  they  jumped 
into  the  water  again  and  staid  until  their 
lips  were  blue,  and  so  on  for  the  rest  of 
the  long  summer  afternoon  till  the  whis- 
tles blew  for  six  o'clock  and  supper.  This 
meant  a  rapid  dressing  and  a  scurrying 
for  home,  with  Slim  Jones  left  alone  on 
the  wharf  to  get  the  knot  out  of  his  shirt. 

As  Shorty  disappeared  in  the  dis- 
tance, he  gave  Slim  the  sign  of  the 
double  crossed  fingers  that  meant, 
"Run  for  your  life.  Danger!" 

"I    never   seen   a  meaner  gang'n 
that,"  thought  the  fat  boy  to  himself 
98 


Stony  Lonesome 

as  he  tugged  at  the  knots.  "An'  right 
after  I  treated  them  to  my  c'rebro,  too.  I 
see  me  givin'  up  any  more  of  it.  I'm  too 
easy.  And  joined  their  measly  old  society, 
too.  I'll  fix  'em.  Darn,  if  I  ain't  a  good 
mind  to  tell  about  them  pencils.  If  they 
warn't  in  my  haymow,  too,  I  would.  But 
shucks !  I'd  go  to  jail  with  the  rest  of 
'em." 

Slim  finally  undid  the  knots,  got  his 
shirt  on  backwards,  and  ambled  across 
the  fields  for  home,  meditating  other  plans 
of  vengeance  less  dangerous  to  himself. 

Spot  and  Shorty  on  their  way  home 
had  also  been  laying  plans. 

"Say,  Shorty,  let's  go  up  to-night  and 
get  Slim's  bottle  of  c'rebro  !" 

"Good  !  Let's  do  it.  We'll  meet  right 
after  supper." 

After  Slim  Jones  had  disappeared  up 
the  bank  and  down  the  path,  a  small 
figure  slipped  out  of  the  factory  and 
made  its  way  towards  the  town.  It  wore 
a  smile  on  its  face,  a  smile  of  half-con- 
cealed triumph.  It  was  Peewee  Jackson, 
the  Boy  Detective ! 


99 


CHAPTER  VI 


In  Which  the  Treacherous  Raid  on  Slim  Jones'  Private 
Stock  Comes  to  Naught. 

SLIM  JONES  was  late  to  supper  that 
night,  but   he   had  a  few  plans  of 
vengeance  in  mind  that  would  be  likely 
to  take  form  in  the  future. 
The  other  boys  swallowed 
their  food  as  hastily  as  pos- 
sible   so    as     not    to    miss 
the  evening's  entertainment. 
Shorty  and  Spot  appeared 
on  the  street  almost  simul- 
taneously.    They  had  their 
bean  blowers  in  their  pock- 
ets  and   began   picking  off 
their  foes.     Stray  cats  and 
dogs   or  little  girls  and  boys  were  their 
legitimate  prey. 

"Haven't  seen  the  cops  yet,  have  you?" 
"No,  but  the  paper  said  there  was  a 
New  York  detective  stopping  at  the  hotel. 
I  took  my  pencils  out  of  the  haymow  and 
buried  them  in  the  back  yard." 
100 


-T  D?3NPY  STUD|0 

»>^ 

Stony  Lonesome 

"My  gracious !     A  detective !" 

"Yes." 

"Say,  we're  up !     It's  no  use." 

"P'raps  he  wasn't  on  our  case." 

"I  believe  we're  gonners !  Let's  run 
away!" 

"O—o,  look  at  that !" 

Five  or  six  little  girls  were  on  the  steps 
of  the  church  playing  "Raw-Head-and- 
Bloody-Bones."  This  play  simply  repre- 
sents the  enjoyment  of  the  ecstasy  of 
protection  in  the  sight  of  the  Fearful 
Object.  The  dramatis  personae  are  the 
Mother  Girl  with  her  Children,  and  the 
Ogre  or  Giant  known  as  Raw-Head-and- 
Bloody-Bones.  One  of  the  larger  girls 
takes  this  part.  She  hides  around  a 
corner  or  under  a  flight  of  steps,  while 
the  little  girls  play  innocently  near  the 
mother.  The  sudden  appearance  of  the 
ogre  results  in  great  screaming  and  run- 
ning to  the  mother,  all  the  girls  hanging 
passionately  to  her  skirts  for  the  sense  of 
protection  so  dear  to  the  child  heart. 

Spot  and  Shorty  forgot  their  desperate 
situation  in  the  joy  of  the  chase.  They 
filled  their  mouths  with  beans  and  crawled 
101 


a    fence   until    they  were   within 

"Let's   pepper  the    Ror-Head!" 
"All  right." 

The  ogre  was  astonished  by  the 
sudden  fall  of  mysterious  beans 
about  her  person. 

"Henry  Hitchcock,  you  stop 
that!" 

The  secret  was  out,  and  the  boys 
fled  up  the  street,  hooting  and 
laughing.  This  incident  occurred 
after  supper,  while  the  summer  sun  was 
still  high.  The  boys  were  waiting  for 
nightfall  to  make  their  projected  raid  on 
Slim  Jones'  hidden  stores.  Several  dogs, 
wandering  around  looking  for  bones  or 
engaged  in  social  duties,  were  astonished 
by  well-directed  shots  and  fled  up  the 
street  or  into  their  yards  with  sharp 
yelps. 

A  respectable  farmer  coming  into 
town  behind  the  family  horse  was  a 
godsend. 
"Hi,  there!" 

The     farmer     looked     over     his 
shoulder. 

1 02 


Stony  Lonesome 


"Say,  your  wheel's  goin' 
round!"" 

The  farmer  made  no  re- 
ply but  drove  on. 

"Say,  your  hoss  is  mov- 
in1 !" 

This  was  from  Shorty, 
but  Spot  was  not  far  be- 
hind. 

"Push  on  his  tail  feathers  an'  he'll  go 
faster." 

The  farmer  was  evidently  annoyed. 
The  boys  began  to  blow  beans  at  him, 
and  to  cry,  "Caw,  caw,  caw,"  to  indicate 
that  the  crows  were  after  the  horse's 
remains. 

"Better  not  take  that  old  crow-bait 
down  town.  They'll  arrest  you  !" 

The  farmer  grabbed  his  whip  and 
jumped  from  the  wagon.  The  effect  was 
magical.  Shorty  and  Spot  fell  over  the 
first  fence  like  two  frightened  cats, 
dodged  around  a  house  and  through  an 
alley,  across  a  street,  and  were  well  into 
another  section  of  town  before  they 
stopped  to  look  around. 

"Say,  he  was  mad  !" 
103 


Stony  Lonesome 

"If    he'd    caught    us,    he'd    licked    us 
good." 

"He  didn't  catch  us." 
"Let's  separate  and  meet  back  of  Slim's 
barn.     If  we're  seen  goin'  up  together, 
they'll  be  on  to  us." 
"All  right." 

Shorty  ran  around  one  way,  and  Spot 
disappeared   in   the   other    through    the 
growing    darkness.      Shorty  had    barely 
reached   the   end   of  the   block  when   a 
heavy  hand  was  laid  on  his  col- 
lar.    His  heart  fell  about  twenty 
feet.      The   police    had   him   at 
last !     It  was  all  over. 

"Lemmebe!     Whatchertryin' 
to  do?" 

^x   \*t.a»>wv 

^^  0  "I  saw  you  and  Spot  Maloney 

firing  stones  at  my  dog  last  week."  It 
was  only  Breezy  Martin,  a  big  lout  of  a 
fellow  and  a  general  ne'er-do-weel  who 
owned  a  thin-skinned  dog  of  which  he 
was  very  choice. 

"1  never  did  it.     It  was  Spot." 
"Huh!     I    caught  Spot  last  week  and 
he  said  it  was  you." 
"I  never!" 

104 


"Well,  I'm  goin'  to  knock  the  stuffin' 
out  o'  yer !" 

Shorty  bit  and  kicked  vigor- 
ously, but  Breezy  Martin  cuffed 
him  severely  and  kicked  him 
aside. 

"There,  you'll  let  my  dog  alone 
after  this!" 

Shorty  was  sniffling  with  rage. 

"Gol  darn  you !      I'll   get   even 
with  you  !     I'll  poison  your  dog  !" 

Breezy  started  to  repeat  the  punish- 
ment, but  Shorty  fled.  Later  he  met  Spot 
back  of  the  Jones  barn,  sitting  under  a 
tree  and  whittling  a  shingle. 

"Say,  Breezy  Martin  lammed  me." 

"He  lammed  me  the  other  day,  too." 

"You  told  on  me." 

"I  never!" 

"You  did,  too  !     He  said  you  did  !" 

"Well,  he's  a  liar!" 

There  was  further  exchange  of  compli- 
ments,  but   the    incident    finally   passed 
,  without  overt  act. 

"How  we  goin'  to  git  Slim's  licker?" 

'Can't  we  git  in  the  barn  winder?" 

"It's  too  high." 

105 


Stony  Lonesome 

"Let's  get  a  pole  an'  shin  up." 
"P'raps  the  winder's  locked." 
"That's  so." 

"We'll  sneak  in  the  barn  door  an'  up 
the  stairs." 

The  boys  sat  around  and 
waited  until  a  lamp  was  lighted 
in  the  Jones  house.  Then  they 
stole  around  the  corner  of  the 
barn  like  ghosts,  slipped  in  at 
the  door  and  scurried  up  the 
stairs. 
"What's  that  ?" 

No  sound  was  heard  but  that  of  the 
horses  chewing  their  hay  and  stamping 
to  scatter  the  flies. 

"If  Slim's  father  catches  us,  he'll  fan  us 
with  a  board." 

"Whaffor  ?    We'd  tell  him  we're  come 
to  see  Slim." 
"That's  so." 
"Go  ahead !" 
"Here's  the  place!" 

Shorty  reached  his  hand  into  the  hole. 
"Gol  durn  !     She  ain't  here." 
Slim,  the  wily,  the  suspicious  one,  had 
feared  something  of  this  kind  and  had 
1 06 


Stony  Lonesome 


changed  the  hiding  place  of 
his  treasured  bottle. 

The  boys  made  their  way 
home  dejectedly,  keeping  a 
close  watch  out  for  police  and 
detectives.  The  darkness 
seemed  to  be  full  of  metal 
stars  and  clubs,  and  they 
would  hardly  have  been  sur- 
prised at  any  moment  to  have 
heard  the  fateful  words,  "You 
are  my  prisoners !" 

As  the  boys  moved  cautiously  along  the 
sidewalk,  they  saw  Mrs.  Mason,  a  widow 
of  small  but  independent  fortune,  sitting 
comfortably  at  her  dining-room  window, 
knitting.  From  time  to  time  she  counted 
her  stitches,  glanced  up  at  the  clock,  and 
sniffed  vigorously.  Shorty  used  to  carry 
milk  for  Mrs.  Mason.  She  lived  all  by 
herself  on  Lilac  street,  and  took 
a  pint  of  milk  which  some  of 
the  boys  brought  to  her  door 
every  evening.  This  milk  she 
carefully  set  in  a  little  tin  pan  in 
the  buttery  and  skimmed  for 
her  morning  cup  of  coffee. 
107 


Stony  Lonesome 

When  Shorty  sometimes  forgot  to  take 
her  the  milk  because  of  the  strenuosity  of 
boy  life,  Mrs.  Mason's  remarks  about 
little  boys  were  far  from  complimentary. 
In  the  course  of  a  season  of  arduous  milk 
carrying,  Shorty  learned  much  of  Mrs. 
Mason  and  her  ways.  One  day, 
in  a  desire  to  confide  in  somebody, 
if  only  a  boy — for  life  in  the  large 
house  was  very  lonesome — Mrs. 
Mason  took  him  into  the  cellar 
and  showed  him  rows  on 
rows  of  kindling  wood,  all 
carefully  cut  into  exact 
lengths  and  piled  with  geo- 
metrical precision  to  the  very 
top  of  the  cellar.  The  wood 
ran  several  times  the  length  of  the 
cellar,  and  ought,  at  the  least  calcu- 
lation, to  have  lasted  for  years. 

"I've  been  using  on  it  for  two  years  and 
eight  months  now,"  said  Mrs.  Mason, 
with  a  sigh,  "and  it  looks  to  me  as  if  it 
would  last  as  long  as  I  do.  I  ain't  very 
long  for  this  world  now." 

"Where'd  you  get  it  all,  Mrs.  Mason  ?" 
he  asked,  more  for  the  sake  of  making 
1 08 


Stony  Lonesome 

talk  and  being  polite   than   because   he 
cared  to  know. 

"Well,  you  see,  Mr.  Mason,  when  he 
was  alive,  knew  that  he  had  got  to  die 
with  his  complaint,  and  he  knew  that  I 
would  be  left  all  alone  here  to  take  care 
of  myself.  He  always  made  all  the  fires, 
and  he  didn't  like  to  think  of  me  a-mak- 
ing  them;  he  was  so  thoughtful.  So  one 
day  he  began  to  split  kindling  wood  and 
pile  it  in  the  cellar  for  me  to  use  after  he 
was  gone.  As  long  as  he  lived,  which 
was  for  two  years  after  that,  he  kept 
working  on  these  piles  of  wood,  and  one 
of  the  last  things  he  did  before  he  took  to 
his  bed  was  to  split  a  few  pieces  and  lay 
them.  Those  are  the  pieces  there,  the 
last  he  split.  I  couldn't  bear  to  use  them, 
so  I  laid  them  to  one  side  to  kind  of 
remind  me.  Though,  of  course,  I  am 
reminded  of  him  every  time  I  build  a 
kitchen  fire,  anyhow." 

This  pathetic  incident  of  love  that  sur- 
vived the  grave  did  not  have  much  influ- 
ence on  Shorty's  feelings. 

"Say,  let's  put  a  tick-tack  on  her 
winder." 

109 


Stony  Lonesome 


"Got  any  strings  ?" 
Shorty  fished  out  of  his  pocket 
about  ten  yards  of  fish  line. 
"Here's  a  nail." 
The  satanic    contrivance  was 
quickly    arranged,    and    Shorty 
sneaked  up  under  the  window  and  pinned 
it  to  the  sash.     The  boys  hid  behind  the 
lilac  bush  by  the  fence.     Shorty  pulled 
the  string. 

Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick 

Mrs.  Mason  jumped  to  her  feet. 
The  boys  chuckled  with  joy  and   the 
ticking  stopped. 

Mrs.  Mason  looked  all  around  and  then 
resumed  her  knitting. 

Tick-tick-tick-tick 

This  time  she  came  to  the  window  and, 
peering  out,  caught  the  nail  in  the  act. 
She  rushed  for  the  door,  grabbing 
a  broom  in  her  passage;  but  Spot 
and  Shorty  were  flying  down  the 
street. 

The  evening  was  not  entirely  a 
failure.  Neither  was  the  evening 
one  devoid  of  action  on  the  part  of 
Terrible  Peewee,  the  Bold  Boy 

1 10 


Never-sleep.  With  joy  too  deep  for 
expression,  he  had  seen  the  punishment 
administered  to  Shorty  by  Breezy  Martin 
and  had  afterwards  followed  him  at  a 
long  distance  to  his  rendezvous.  But 
what  did  the  secret  raid  on  Slim  Jones' 
barn  mean  ?  Was  not  Slim  in  the  con- 
spiracy? Sure  he  was!  He  had  been 
with  the  boys  in  the  cave.  Aha!  A 
great  light  suddenly  dawned  on  the  boy 
detective  !  He  saw  it  all !  The  other 
boys  were  playing  Slim  false.  They  were 
trying  to  steal  his  share  of  the  plunder. 
Such  treachery  was  like  Shorty  Hitch- 
cock. It  was  his  nature.  Peewee  laughed 
a  noiseless  laugh. 

"I'll  foil  the  whole  nest  of  villains  yet. 
Justice  shall  be  done." 


CHAPTER  VII 

In  Which  Peewee  and  "the  Police"  Break  Up  a  Secret 
Meeting  of  the  Patriots  Defense  Society. 

WHEN  Shorty  played  "short"  on  the 
Red  Stockings  he  found  nothing  to 
do  except  to  crane  his  neck  and  to  watch 
the  "high  flies"  chasing  one  another 
overhead.      The   trouble   with    the 
Red   Stockings   Baseball  Club  was 
that  the  "members  of  the  nine  were 
theorists.     The  art  of  pitching  had 
just    developed    from     the     simple 
tossed  ball  to  the  "round  arm"  and 
then  to  "the  underhand  throw,"  and 
every  boy  in  the   nine  was  full    of 
ideas    and    experiments    and    was 
nearly  crazy  with  interest  and  excitement 
over   the  game.     While  every  boy  jack 
was  trying  to  put  these  theories  into  prac- 
tice, the  coarse,  rough  boys  who  played 
ball  on  the  other  nines  smote  the  leathern 
sphere  heavily  and  wore  themselves  out 
112 


Stony  Lonesome 

running  around  the  bases  for  scores.  The 
Red  Stockings'  out-fielders  never  caught 
anything,  unless  it  was  the  mumps. 
They  had  theories  as  to  how  a 
high  ball  should  be  "judged." 
These  theories  worked  out  well  in 
the  conversations  back  of  the  barn, 
but  they  failed  in  the  field.  As  an 
example  of  what  is  meant  by  theories, 
let  me  relate  the  case  of  Noony  Norris, 
the  crack  pitcher  of  the  Red  Stockings. 
The  boys  all  knew  that,  from  his  cradle, 
Nuisance  or  "Noony"  Norris  was  cut  out 
for  a  great  pitcher.  Noony  knew  it  too. 
There  were  fights  over  the  other  posi- 
tions, but  everybody  conceded  that 
Noony  should  pitch.  No  one  could 
tell  where  his  reputation  had  been 
made,  but  nobody  questioned 
it.  He  was  conceded  to  be  the 
wiliest  little  scoundrel  that 
ever  twirled  leather.  I  wonder 
why  we  were  all  so  sure  of 
his  ability  to  twist  the  ball  so 
that  it  would  just  roll  around 
the  bat  of  his  astonished  vic- 
tim? 


Stony  Lonesome 


to 


When  the  game  began,  Noony  took  the 
sphere  and  struck  his  professional  atti- 
tude. After  that  the  catcher  of  the 
Red  Stockings  "kicked"  because  he 
hadn't  anything  to  do.  Every 
ball  that  was  tossed,  a  "giant" 
from  the  other  nine  lifted  into 
the  next  pasture.  It  was  piti- 
ful. 

In   the    first    game    played, 
after  the  Red  Stockings  had 
been  used  to  dent  the  pasture 
and  after  the  score  stood  114 
to  28,  Spot  Maloney    remarked 
boys: 

"Say,  I  don't  believe  Noony's  no  good 
to  pitch." 

That  was  the  end  of  Noony's  reputation. 
The  club  was  ripe  for  the  doubt.  Noony 
was  unanimously  thrown  out.  But  the 
nine  never  won  anything  after  that,  either. 
After  the  first  of 
these  disgraceful  per- 
formances on  the  dia- 
mond, Shorty,  Spot, 
and  Slim  Jones  had 
wandered  out  behind 
114 


the  Hitchcock  barn  to  talk  it  over  and  to 
abuse  Noony  Norris  for  not  having  put  a 
foundation  under  his  reputation. 

"He  didn't  show  no  headwork,"  com- 
plained Shorty.  "The  ball  just  went  easy 
right  over  the  base  and  they  pasted  it." 

"If  it  hadn't  been  for  Noony  we  might 
have  walloped  'em,"  said  Slim  Jones. 

"Noony  lost  us  that  game,  sure," 
assented  Spot.  "I  saw  after  the  first 
innings  that  we  might  as  well  have  been 
settin'  down.  We'll  never  hear  the  last 
of  that." 

"Well,  I  don't  care,"  said  Shorty,  "as 
long's  the  detectives  don't  round  us  up. 
Say,  let's  show  Slim  the  cave  in  under  the 
church  and  hold  a  meeting  of  the  Patriots' 
Defense  Society  in  it." 

"Good !"  said  Spot. 

"Hold  on,"  said  Slim  suspiciously. 
"What's  this  about  caves  ?  I've  got 
enough  o'  caves  an'  of  shirt-tyin',  too. 
I  call  that  pretty  low  down  to  use  a 
brother  patriot  that  way,  by  gosh !" 

"Oh,  that's  only  in  fun,  Slim," 
explained  Shorty.  "We  didn't  mean 
nothin'  by  it." 

115 


Stony  Lonesome 

"Well,  I  say  gol  durn  such  fun  as  that. 
What  church  is  she  under  ?" 

"The  cave?  Oh,  the  Baptist.  Mean' 
Spot  found  her  one  day  when  we  fixed 
the  bell.  Say,  wasn't  that  great !" 

The  thought  was  so  full  of  joy  that 
Spot  could  not  find  words  to  express  it. 
The  boys  wandered  over  to  the  church, 
and  after  some  discussion  crawled  in  at 
the  window.  Slim  was  the  last  to  enter. 
His  mind  was  filled  with  doubt  and  fore- 
bodings as  he  noticed  the  small  space 
between  the  floor  of  the  church  and  the 
ground.  Complaining  of  the  heat  and  of 
the  narrow  space,  he  wiggled  along 
behind  the  boys.  Hardly  had  Slim's  fat 
little  stockings  worked  their  way  into  the 
aperture  when  Peewee  Jackson,  the  Boy 
Detective,  crept  around  the  corner  of  the 
church  and  stole  over  to  the  window. 

"Wonder  what  they're  up  to?" 

Peewee  did  not  dare  follow  the  boys, 
but  he  sat  down  near  the  window  and 
tried  to  hear  what  they  were  saying. 

"By  gum!"  said  Slim  breathlessly,  "I'm 
going  to  back  out.  I'll  get  stuck  in  this." 

"She  widens  up  in  here,  Slim,"  said 
116 


Shorty.      "Just    push    under    that   beam. 
There !" 

Slim  came  out  near  the  wall  where  space 
was  a  little  more  free  and  looked  around 
with  much  interest. 

"There's  where  we  climb  up  to  get  at 
the  bell,"  said  Spot.  "See  them  cleats 
nailed  on  ?" 

"Now,"  said  Shorty,  "let  the  Patriot's 
Defense  Society  come  to  order  and  we'll 
consider  the  -  Shorty  held  up  four 

fingers. 

"Say,"  said  Spot,  "I  move 
first  we  take  an  oath  in 
blood  to  shut  up  and  say 
nothin'  till  the  time  comes." 

".What's  an  oath  in  blood  ?"  asked  Slim 
uneasily. 

"Why,  you  cut  your  finger  and  sign  the 
agreement  in  your  own  blood  and  then 
you  can't  break  it,  you  know." 

"Why  can't  you?" 

"Why,  because !  They  never  do,  the 
pirates  and  buccaneers.  Thunder!  Do 
you  suppose  a  pirate'd  break  a  blood 
oath?  No  sir!" 

"Well,  perhaps  not." 
117 


Stony  Lonesome 

"Of  course  not." 

"But  who's  going  to  cut  his  finger  to  get 
the  blood  ?"  asked  Shorty. 

"Oh,  Slim'll  do  that,"  said  Spot.  "We'll 
take  a  nail,  dip  it  in  the  blood  and  make 
a  cross  on  the  wall  here." 

"Well,  I  guess  not !" 

"Oh,  come  on !" 

"Well,  I  guess  not !  You  cut  your  own 
finger." 

"What's  that !" 

A  noise  like  some  one  scraping  on  the 
floor  was  heard  overhead.  Then  all  was 
still. 

"Say,  what  was  that?"  said  Slim. 

"Shut  up,"  whispered  Spot;  "they's 
detectives  in  the  entry." 

"Let's  crawl  out  and  cut,"  whispered 
Shorty. 

At  this  point  heavy  steps  were  heard 
above,  followed  by  a  kicking  and  scram- 
bling noise,  and  a  childish  voice  was 
raised  in  protest. 

"My  gosh !  That's  Peewee  Jackson," 
said  Shorty.  "Come  and  let's  move 
out." 

Peewee,  the  wily  Never-sleep,  finding 
118 


Stony  Lonesome 


that  he  could  not  hear  the  boys'  conver- 
sation from  the  window  in  the  foundation, 
had  stealthily  made  his 
way  to  the  entry  way  of 
the    church.      He   was 
lying  on  the  floor  with 
his  ear  at  a  crack  when 
Bill    Kendall,  the  sex- 
ton, happening  to  come 
in,  discovered  him  in  this  suspicious  atti- 
tude and  caught  him  by  the  coat  collar. 
"You  lemme  go !" 
"What  are  you  doing  in  here?" 
"Nothin' !" 

"Then  you'll  go  to  jail." 
"Whaffor?" 
"Nothin'." 

"They  don't  put  boys  in  jail  for  nothin'." 
"How  do  I  know  but  what 
you  was  setting  the  church 
on  fire?" 
"I  wasn't!" 
"I  don't  know  that." 
"There's    a    gang   under 
the  floor  and  I  was  tryin'  to 
hear  what  they  said." 
"A  gang!"  ' 
119 


Stony  Lonesome 

"Yes,  Shorty  Hitchcock's." 
"How'd  they  get  under  there?" 
"By  the  winder." 

"Well,  we'll  go  out  and  look  into  this 
window." 

Bill  Kendall  and  Peewee 
Jackson    reached   the   win- 
dow just  as  the  lower  half 
of  Shorty's   form   was    ap- 
pearing in  view. 
With  a  smile  of  triumph,  Bill   Kendall 
watched  him  back  out.  Shorty  looked  very 
sheepish. 

"Come  on  out,  boys;  he  s  got  us." 
The  boys  wiggled  out,  Slim  bringing  up 
the  rear.     They  were  a  dusty  and  muddy 
set.     Bill  Kendall's  grin  was  changed  sud- 
denly into  a  disgusted  look. 
"Where's  that  little  devil !" 
During   the   excitement   of    the    boys' 
exit,    Peewee    Jackson,    the     Bold    Boy 
Sleuth,   had    "cut   and    run."       He    was 
nowhere  to  be  seen. 

"Oh,  all  right,  let  him  run.      I  know 
him.     What  are  you  boys  doing  in  there  ?" 
"Nothin'.    Just  crawled  in,"  said  Shorty. 
"We  warn't  doing  no  hurt." 
120 


Stony  Lonesome 


"What's  in  under  there?" 
"Nothing  but  a  hole.     We  were  going 
to  play  cave  an'    Indians." 
"Oh,  you  was!" 
"Yes,  honest." 
"Then  what  was  Peewee 
Jackson  laying  on  the  floor 
for    an'     listening    at    that 
crack?" 

The  boys   looked  at  one 
another  in  dismay. 

"We  didn't  know  he  was 
there.     He  was  just  spyin'  on  us." 

"Well,  if  I  catch  you  around  this  church 
again,  I'll  slap  the  whole  outfit  in  jail. 
Somebody  fooled  with  this  bell  the  other 
day.  I  know  you  boys  warn't  big  enough 
to  do  that,  but  anybody  we 
catch  around  here  after  this 
will  get  into  the  lockup. 
You  hear  me?" 

The  boys  went  off  to- 
gether to  have  a  drink  at 
the  old  pump  in  the  town 
square  before  returning 
home. 

"Say,"    said    Shorty,    "he 

121 


Stony  Lonesome 

come  just  in  time  to  stop  Peewee  from 
hearin'  us.  Wasn't  that  luck  ?" 

"Wonder  how  much  Peewee  heard  any- 
way." 

"He  didn't  hear  a  thing.  We  used  the 
signal." 

"Wasn't  that  great  ?" 

"You  bet !" 

"But  he  suspects  something." 

"How'd  you  know?" 

"What's  he  spyin'  on  us  for?" 

"Oh,  just  because  he's  Peewee.  It's  the 
detectives  I'm  afraid  of." 

The  boys  were  somewhat  worried  by 
this  adventure,  but  they  finally  concluded 
that  Peewee  did  not  know  anything  and 
was  of  too  small  consequence  to  notice 
further  than  to  lick  for  spying  if  they 
should  catch  him.  But  that  night  before 
he  went  to  bed,  Peewee,  the  Boy  Never- 
sleep,  cut  another  deep  notch  in  the  handle 
of  his  tomahawk. 


122 


CHAPTER  VIII 

In  Which  Peewee  Jackson,  the  Boy  Detective,  Finds  a 
Clue  as  Big  as  a  House. 

SHORTY  HITCHCOCK'S  first  trou- 
ble on  the  Sabbath  was  that  he 
seemed  to  be  wide  awake  in  the  morning, 
when  other  people  wanted  to  sleep. 
Usually  it  was  the  labor  of  Hercules  to 
get  the  boy  awake  and  out  of  bed; 
something  at  which  Mrs.  Hitchcock 
threw  up  her  hands  and  which  brought 
out  the  full  glory  of  Mr.  Hitchcock's 
dominance  in  the  family.  But  on  Sun- 
day, and  especially  on  this  Sunday,  it 
was  another  story.  The  town  was 
deadly  still,  and  Shorty  had  been  aroused 
to  complete  wakefulness  by  the  thought 
that  the  police  might  choose  this  day  to 
show  their  hands.  Nothing  could  be 
heard  but  the  noise  of  the  hens  busying 
themselves  in  the  egg  industry,  and  the 
stamping  of  the  horse  in  his  eternal  fight 
with  flies  in  the  barn. 
123 


Stony  Lonesome 


The  sun  seemed  to  come  up  earlier  and 
to  shine  brighter  than  usual.    Shorty  tried 
desperately  to  sleep,  but  it  was 
useless.     He  jumped  out  of  bed 
and  began  to  dress  himself  to 
the  accompaniment  of  a  shrill 
whistle. 
"Henry!" 
"What?" 

"If  you  are  going  to  get  up, 
you  must  keep  still." 

There  it  was.  What  was  the 
use  of  living,  anyway  ? 
Shorty  loafed  around  looking  over  his 
birds'  eggs  and  postage  stamps,  teasing 
the  cat  and  feeding  the  hens,  until  the 
long  morning  wore  itself  away  and  break- 
fast was  prepared. 

At  the  table  everybody  sat  very  still 
while  Mr.  Hitchcock  bowed  his  head  and 
said: 

"For  what  we  are  about  to  receive,  may 
we  be  truly  thankful." 

After  the  breakfast  Mr.  Hitchcock  drew 

his   chair    from   the    table    and    Minnie 

handed  him  the  Bible.     A  chapter  was 

read  and  the  family  kneeled  at  the  chairs 

124 


Stony  Lonesome 


say  man   was   a 


while  a  prayer  was  offered.  Mr.  Hitch- 
cock to-day  read  the  chapter,  taken  at 
random,  where  man  is  com- 
pared to  a  shadow,  and  in 
his  prayer  he  dwelt  at  length 
on  this  simile.  Shorty  for 
a  wonder  had  been  listen- 
ing. As  they  arose,  he 
broke  out: 

"Pa!" 

"Well  ?" 

"Did   it 
shadow  ?" 

"Yes,  my  son,  his  life  is  like  a  shadow." 

"Is  a  boy  a  shadow,  too  ?" 

"Yes,  life  is  very  uncertain." 

"Say." 

"Well?" 

"Slim  Jones  ain't  no  shadow." 

"Henry,  leave  the  room!" 

There  it  was  once  more.     A  boy  had 
no  show,  especially  on  Sunday. 

The  sight  of  the  hens  in  the  yard,  still 
engaged  in  getting  their  breakfast, 
offered  a  little  diversion.  Shorty  pro- 
cured a  handful  of  corn  and  threw  it  out 
one  grain  at  a  time  to  see  them  scramble 
125 


Stony  Lonesome 

for  it.  He  grew  indignant  at  the  old  one- 
eyed  rooster  who  clucked  so  vigorously  to 
call  the  hens  and  then  ate  the  corn  him- 
self. 

"I'll  fix  him !"  said  Shorty  to  himself. 
He  whipped  out  his  knife  and  began 
boring  a  hole  in  a  kernel  of  corn. 
"Henry!" 
"What?" 

"I  want  you  to  say,  'What,  sir'  " 
"All  right." 

"What  are  you  aomg?" 
"Nothing,  only  feeding  the  hens  a  little 
corn." 

"Are  you  ready  for  church  ?" 
"Yes,  sir" 

Shorty  bored  a  hole  through  the  corn 
and  attached  a  string  to  it.  This  he 
threw  out,  keeping  hold  of  one  end  of  the 
string.  The  one-eyed  rooster  fell  heavily 
upon  the  corn  without  investigation  and 
swallowed  it.  Shorty  gave  a  vigorous 
^  pull  at  the  string,  and  the  aston- 
ished rooster  lost  the  corn  and 
set  up  a  loud  and  indignant 
cackle. 
"Henry!" 
126 


Stony  Lonesome 


"What,  sir?" 

"What  are  you  doing  to  the  rooster?" 

"Nothing." 

"Well,  I  don't  want  you  to  frighten  the 
fowls." 

"No,  sir/- 
At this  point  Minnie  Hitchcock,  aged 
sixteen,  came  out,  and  Shorty  in  great 
glee  told  her  of  the  rooster's  mishap. 

"Why,  Henry  Hitchcock !  Aren't  you 
awful !" 

"Naw!     'Twasn't  nothin'." 

"What  do  you  suppose  the  rooster 
thought  ?" 

"I  dunno.  He  looked  awful  sur- 
prised." 

"Did  you  ever  notice  how  hard  they 
peck  at  the  Indian  meal  mush  ma  makes 
for  them  ?" 

"Sure!     They're  always  hun- 

C"  l» 

gry.     Say ! 

"What?" 

Another     idea     was     taking 
shape  in  Shorty's  brain. 

"You    go   in    and   get    Injun 
meal  and  we'll  fool  'em." 

"How?" 

127 


"Never  you  mind.  You  get  the  meal 
and  you'll  see." 

Minnie's  curiosity  was  aroused  and  she 
procured  the  meal.  Shorty  filled  a  tin 
basin  with  water.  On  this  he  sprinkled 
the  meal  until  the  water  was  completely 
covered.  This  dish  he  placed  in  the  yard, 
crying  vigorously  as  he  did  so: 

"Biddy,    biddy,   biddy,  biddy !      Chick, 
chick,  chick,  chick !" 
The  hens  came  flying  from  all  quarters 
and    as   they   saw   the    dish   of 
Indian  meal,  they  pecked  vigor- 
ously at   it   only  to   dash   their 
heads  deep  into  the  water. 

Shorty  howled  with  laughter 
and  Minnie,  suspecting  trouble,  ran  into 
the  house.  While  Shorty  was  enjoying 
the  scene,  his  father  walked  sternly  out 
of  the  house,  and  before  Shorty  knew 
what  had  happened,  he  went  through  the 
operation  of  having  his  ear  "twigged." 
"Ouch !" 

"Don't  you  move  out  of  this  house  until 
it  is  time  for  church." 

Shorty,  with  rebellion  in  his  heart,  went 
into   the    sitting  room  and   looked  over 
128 


.  Stony  Lonesome 

The  Arabian  Nights,  Swiss  Family  Robin- 
son, The  Last  of  the  Mohicans,  and  A  Gold 
Hunter  s  Adventures  in  Australia, — an 
especial  joy  at  this  time. 

"Pa!" 

"Well  ?" 

"I'm  going  down  to  church  to  see  Bill 
Kendall  ring  the  bell." 

"Very  well." 

At  the  church  door  he  met 
Spot  Maloney,  Slim  Jones, 
Noony  Morris,  and  some  of  the 
other  boys  who  were  there  care- 
fully disguised  in  their  Sunday 
clothes.  They  had  come  early 
for  a  similar  purpose. 

Bill  Kendall,  the  sexton,  "rang 
her  up,"  as  setting  the  bell  was  called,  and 
some  of  the  more  expert  boys  had  the 
exquisite  privilege  of  ringing  her  for  a 
few  minutes. 

After  the  ringing  was  over  and  the 
tolling  began,  the  boys  went  aside  by 
themselves  and  discussed  the  Sunday 
school  concert.  Their  class  was  going  to 
take  part.  They  were  to  arise  at  a  par- 
ticular point  in  the  exercises  and  repeat 
129 


Stony  Lonesome 

a  verse.  By  the  snickering  it  was  evident 
that  they  were  planning  some  deviltry. 
v.  But  the  church  services  inter- 

rupted further  scheming. 

As  the  bell  tolled,  the  people 
began  to  come  in  with  their 
faces  set  in  a  fixed  way  that  indi- 
cated propriety.  The  sermon, 
however  bright  and  short,  was 
to  the  boys  long  and  dry,  but 
like  all  other  mortal  things,  it  had  an  end. 
Then  came  the  Sunday  school  and  after 
that,  the  dinner. 

In  some  way  or  other,  Shorty  could 
never  tell  how,  the  long  and  dreary  after- 
noon wore  away  and  it  was  time  to  go  to 
the  Sunday  school  concert.  Here  the 
minister  spoke  rather  pleasantly  to  the 
children,  and  the  superintendent  worried 
them  with  a  few  remarks.  There  was 
singing  and  then  recitations  by  the 
brighter  boys  and  girls. 

The  came  the  piece  de  resistance  of 
the  evening — the  recitation  by  classes. 
Shorty's  class  was  made  up  of  seven 
graceless  little  toughs,  himself  and  Spot 
Maloney,  Speck  Jordan,  Slim  Jones, 
130 


Stony  Lonesome 

Noony  Norris,  Pussy  Clement,  Bill 
Grimes — who  could  chew  tobacco — and 
Frankie  Foster,  the  good  boy. 


Shorty's  class  had  the  first  clause  to 
recite.  They  were  to  arise  and  cry,  "Ho, 
every  one  that  thirsteth."  Then  another 
class  was  to  get  up  and  proclaim,  "Come 
ye  to  the  waters."  The  plan  was  really 
quite  admirable.  At  the  signal  the  boys 
arose  and  impatiently  announced: 

"Thirst,  every  one  that  hoeth !" 

Shorty  and  Spot  were  preternaturally 
solemn,  but  Slim  Jones  grinned.  There 
was  smothered  laughter  in  the  audience, 
and  the  superintendent  expressed  sur- 
prise and  sorrow. 

When  the  family  reached  home  at  nine 
o'clock,  Shorty's  father  was  very  sober. 
Presently  Shorty  accompanied  the  author 
of  his  being  to  the  woodshed,  and  the 
sounds  that  came  thence  indicated  that 
Shorty  had  gone  against  the  trunk  strap. 


Stony  Lonesome 

This  day,  so  memorable  for  Shorty,  had 
not  been  uneventful  for  Peewee  Jackson. 
The  Red  Avenger's  parents  did  not  con- 
sider it  necessary  for  him  to  go  to  church, 
and  he  had  laid  out  a  plan  of  action  that 
included  a  careful  search  of  the  Hitch- 
cock barn.  To  accomplish  this  object  it 
was  necessary  to  wait  until  the  family 
had  left  the  house  and  until  the 
neighborhood  had  quieted  down. 
When  the  church  bells  had  done 
ringing,  Peewee  scouted  up  the 
street  and  carefully  surveyed  the 
Hitchcock  premises.  Everything 
was  quiet.  Whistling  as  he  went, 
the  Red  Avenger,  with  his  hands 
behind  him,  strolled  carelessly 
up  the  walk.  Nobody  in  sight ! 
The  Boy  Detective  stepped  into  the  barn 
and  was  lost  to  view  from  the  street. 
Once  inside  this  building,  Peewee's  de- 
meanor changed.  The  careless  observer 
was  laid  off  and  the  shrewd  detective,  hot 
on  the  trail,  appeared.  Peewee  dug  fran- 
tically into  the  haymow,  felt  along  the 
beams,  tried  the  loose  boards  in  the  floor 
and  even  poked  into  the  grain  box. 
132 


Stony  Lonesome 

Nothing. 

"Foiled  again." 

The  Avenger  finally  ceased  his  search 
and  sat  down  on  the  ladder  leading  to 
the  haymow  to  rest  and  think. 

"Wonder  if  he  hain't  buried  it  over  in 
the  corner  of  the  yard  where  he  buried 
the  cent.  I'll  risk  her." 

Peewee  carelessly  strolled  out  into  the 
yard  again  and  walked  over  to  Shorty's 
favorite  corner.  Ha,  the  ground  had 
been  disturbed!  Peewee  looked  all  around. 
No  one  in  sight !  He  dug  his  heel  into 
the  earth  and  pushed  aside  the  loose  sod 
and  then  dug  with  his  hands. 

Victory  !  The  box  was  quickly  brought 
to  view,  and  Peewee  with  triumph  in  his 
heart  was  gazing  at  the  mysterious  pencils. 

"I'll  put  'em  right  back  after  taking  two 
for  evverdunce,"  said  the  wily  one.  "I'll 
get  this  gang  where  I  want  um !" 

Peewee  pocketed  the  pencils,  replaced 
the  box  in  the  earth,  covered  it  carefully 
and  strolled  out  of  the  Hitchcock  yard, 
whistling  carelessly. 

"As  neat  a  piece  of  detective  work  as  I 
ever  done  in  my  whole  career !"  thought 
133 


Stony  Lonesome 

the  Boy  Avenger  as  he  made  his  way 
up  the  street. 

But  Peewee's  villainy  was  not  en- 
tirely without  counteracting  circum- 
stances. After  the  Hitchcock  family 
had  retired  and  when  the  house  had 
quieted  down,  Shorty  slipped  from 
his  room  into  the  yard  and  dug  up  the 
pencils.  He  had  felt  a  nervous  fear  once 
or  twice  during  the  day  that  all  was  not 
well.  The  leering  face  of  Peewee  Jack- 
son had  been  before  his  eyes  and  he 
wondered  how  much  that  youthful  sleuth 
really  knew.  Shorty  had  counted  the 
pencils  probably  a  hundred  times  and 
knew  that  there  were  exactly  eighteen  of 
them.  When  he  hastily  ran  them  over 
at  this  time  he  found  two  missing !  With 
fear  tugging  at  his  heart  strings,  Shorty 
recounted  them  carefully.  Still  two  pen- 
cils short !  Shorty  found  difficulty  in 
swallowing.  Somebody  had  been  at  the 
hiding  place  and  had  secured  complete 
evidence  of  the  crime ! 

This  terrible  fact  that  the  guilty  knowl- 
edge of  the  gang  was  shared  by  some 
person  or  persons  unknown,  by  a  detec- 
134 


Stony  Lonesome 

tive  perhaps,  or  by  the  police,  made  cold 
chills  chase  themselves  up  and  down 
Shorty's  back.  But  the  very  ten- 
sion  produced  by  the  horror  of  the 
catastrophe  drove  him  to  action. 

"I'll  foil  them,"  he  muttered,  "whoever 
they  are." 

Shorty  went  over  into  the  garden  and 
disinterred  some  dark  object  that  had 
been  buried  under  the  grapevine.  This 
he  brought  back  and  placed  in  the  box  in 
which  the  pencils  had  been  hidden.  The 
box  was  then  carefully  buried  in  the  same 
spot. 

"There,  gosh  durn  'em  !  Now  let  'em 
dig  for  their  evidence." 

Shorty  took  the  pencils  to  the  barn  and 
hid  them  on  a  beam  above  the  haymow. 
This  done,  he  scurried  back  to  the  house 
and  regained  his  room  without  any  one 
being  aware  of  his  entrance. 


135 


CHAPTER   IX 

In  Which  the  Boys  Decide  to  Take  Uncle  Ellery  into 
Their  Confidence. 

OHORTY  always  kept  in  hand  a 
series  of  leading  strings  almost 
too  numerous  and  too  trivial 
to  record,  but  all  very  neces- 
sary and  indispensable  to  the 
full  and  rounded  boy  life.  One  of  his 
lines  of  research  indicated  a  fondness  for 
medical  experiment,  due  either  to  the 
early  working  of  the  scientific  mind,  or  to 
what  his  father  called  "just  devilment." 

The  patent  medicine  habit  had  a  strong 
hold  in  Stony  Lonesome.  One  of  the 
favorite  remedies  was  a  fiery  brand  of 
"painkiller"  which  many  people  will 
remember.  When  a  sick  boy  saw  the 
painkiller  bottle,  his  recovery  was  magi- 
cal. Shorty  had  discovered  a  new  and  a 
happier  use  for  the  medicine. 

A  strange   tomcat  had   been   hanging 
around,  stealing  a  chicken  now  and  then 
and   fighting  the   local   cats.      By   some 
136 


device  or  other  Shorty  had  made  friends 

with  this  cat  and  as  an  experiment  poured 

a  few  drops  of  the  lotion  on 

his  back.     Every  one  knows 

how   cats   dislike    to    have 

liquid  on   their   fur.      This 

animal    hitched     his    back 

once  or  twice,  but   finding 

that  he  did  not  shake  the  moisture  off, 

turned    his    head    and   licked   the   spot. 

Shorty  said  afterward  that  the  cat  rose 

straight  up  in  the  air  about  a  yard,  and 

then    shot    across   the    country   like    an 

arrow,  just  touching  the  high  spots  and 

the  tops  of  the  fences. 

After  this  the  boys  watched  for  cats, 
which  after  one  experience  never  came 
back.  When  the  stray  animals  gave  out, 
Shorty  extended  his  operations  to  the 
neighborhood  cats  until  people  who  saw 
their  tame  animals  acting  as  if  they  "were 
going  nowhere  and  trying  to  climb  up  on 
nothing,"  protested. 

At  another  time  Shorty  soaked  a  kernel 
of  corn  in  painkiller  and  tempted  the 
rooster's  appetite.  That  bird's  feathers 
stood  straight  up  on  top  of  his  head,  his 

137 
10 


Stony  Lonesome 

brow  appeared  to  be  wrinkled  with  anxi- 
ety, and  he  flew  the  coop  crying: 

"Fire!" 

Shorty's  father  saw  this  episode,  how- 
ever, and  all  medical  experiments  came 
to  a  sudden  stop;  so  sudden,  in  fact,  that 
Shorty  was  rather  painfully  shaken  up. 

Another  and  a  more  satisfactory  kind 
of  a  jar  came  from  the  kicking  of  the  old 
shotgun  that  Uncle  Ellery  used  to  let  the 
boys  take  occasionally.  This  arm  was 
an  old,  double-barrelled,  percussion-cap 
affair,  with  barrels  that  appeared  to  be 
nearly  as  thin  as  paper.  Whether  or  not 
she  kicked  when  Uncle  Ellery  handled  her 
is  not  known,  because  Uncle  Ellery  main- 
tained a  discreet  silence  on  her  faults  and 
was  generously  appreciative  of  her  good 
qualities. 

Doubtless  the  old  arm  was  safe  enough, 
but  in  the  hands  of  the  boys  it  had  a 
strenuous  recoil.  There  was  a  general 
feeling  that  the  gun  knew  her  master, 
but  resented  boy's  play.  Shorty  had 
worked  Uncle  Ellery  to  let  him  take  the 
gun,  because  he  knew  that  there  was 
under  Mrs.  Mason's  barn  a  certain  fur- 
138 


Stony  Lonesome 


bearing  animal  nameless  in  the  presence 
of  our  fastidious  readers.  Altogether 
Shorty  put  in  a  good  many  hours  watch- 
ing for  this  animal  to 
come  out  and  act  as 
target. 

One  day  it  ap- 
peared. It  would 
have  been  better  for 
all  concerned  if 
Shorty  had  backed 
out  and  gone  home. 
But  no  boy  ever  hesi- 
tates to  shoot  at  any- 
thing that  wears  fur.  Shorty  rested  the 
gun  on  the  fence-top  and  pulled  up  the 
anchor.  A  report  that  sounded  like 
the  explosion  of  a  few  pounds  of  wet  gun 
cotton,  combined  with  a  cloud  of  white 
smoke  that  hid  the  neighborhood  for 
several  seconds,  followed.  Shorty  "came 
to,"  picked  himself  out  of  the  cucumber 
vines  and  looked  around  for  game. 
There  was  nothing  in  sight  but  a  very 
gamy  perfume  that  struck  the  neighbor- 
hood over  the  head,  as  it  were,  with  a 
board.  Mrs.  Mason  appeared  in  the 
139 


Stony  Lonesome 


barn  door,  holding  her  face  in  one  hand 
while  she  gesticulated  with  the  other. 
Shorty  left  as  quickly  as  possible  and 
never  saw  his  fur-bearing 
friend  again. 

Every  boy  in  Stony 
Lonesome  used  to  shoot 
"patridges."  The  birds 
enjoyed  the  sport  keenly 
and  the  percentage  of  fatalities  was  small. 
There  used  to  be  a  wily  old  mother  bird 
who  lived  in  the  woods  back  of  the  school 
house,  where  she  had  raised  families  for 
many  years.  Every  boy  in  the  neighbor- 
hood for  several  generations  had  shot  at 
her,  missed,  grown  old,  passed  the  fowling 
piece  down  to  his  children,  who  in  turn  had 
shot  at  the  bird,  missed,  and  passed  on. 

Shorty  met  this  bird  one  autumn 
day  among  the  hazel  bushes  near  the 
old  beech  tree.  He  suffered  an  at- 
tack of  buck  ague,  but  managed  to 
unhitch  the  firearm.  When  the  smoke 
cleared  away,  the  bushes  were  there 
and  the  beech  tree,  but  the  partridge 
was  gone  and  no  shot  marks  could  be 
found.  Shorty  had  either  fired  into 
140 


Stony  Lonesome 

the  air,  or  the  shot  had  leaked  out  because 
the  newspaper  wadding  did  not  cover  the 
charge. 

Every  boy  at  one  time  or  another  in  his 
life  gets  his  ramrod  stuck  in  the  gun  and 
has  to  shoot  it  out.  It  is  indeed  a  marvel 
that  so  many  boys  come  to  maturity. 
One  day  Shorty  placed  the  butt  of  his 
gun  on  a  rock,  aimed  it  straight  up  into 
the  air  and  fired  the  ramrod  at 
the  zenith;  then  he  made  a 
quick  run  for  a  tree  so  that  it 
would  not  hit  him  on  the 
head  when  it  came  down. 

There  was  no  necessity  for 
so  much  caution.  The  ramrod 
never  came  back.  The  gun 
store  had  an  extra  supply  of  ramrods  on 
hand  and  did  a  good  business  in  them 
with  the  boys.  When  Shorty  was  obliged 
to  confess  the  way  in  which  the  ramrod 
was  lost,  his  father  was  agitated  and 
spoke  strongly  about  it. 

The  morning  after  the  concert,  when 

Shorty    was    at     the     neighbor's    house 

playing    tag  with    Jennie   Forrest,   they 

were  disturbed  by  a  noise  like  a  locomo- 

141 


Stony  Lonesome 

tive  whistling  for  a  crossing.     It  was  Spot 
Maloney.     Shorty  stirred  uneasily. 

"I  guess  I'll  have  to  be  going.     Spot's 
come  after  me." 

He  answered  Spot's  signal  with  the  war 
whoop  of  the  Mohicans. 

"Been  playing  with  the  girls!" 
"I  haven't,  neither." 
"Saw  yer  over  to  Jen  Forrest's." 
"None  of  yer  business  if  I  was." 
"Girl  Baby !" 

"Say  that  again  an'  I'll  lick  yer." 
"Well,  warn't  yer  over  there?" 
"What  of  it,  if  I  was  ?" 
"Oh,  nothin'." 

"Nothin',  is  it  ?"    Shorty  spoke  bitterly. 
"Guess  I'll  play  with  any  one  I  wanter 
for  all  of  you." 
"Huh!" 

"Huh,  yerself!" 
"Say,  Shorty!" 
"What?" 

"Yer  can't  beanykind  of  afeller  and 
have  anything  to  do  with  the  girls." 
"Wasn't   Moccasin    Mose    all   the 
time  rescuing  women  from  caves  and 
from  Indians?" 

142 


Stony  Lonesome 

This  was  a  poser. 

"Ye— es.  But  he  didn't  go  to  their 
house  afterwards  an'  play  with  them." 

This  was  another  poser. 

"Well,  I'll  go  where  I  durn  please." 

"All  right,  go  ahead." 

"Well,  I'm  a-gointer — when  I  wanter.' 

"Say,  Short !" 

"What  is  it?" 

"Let's  go  up  on  the  house  where  the 
carpenter's  ter  work." 

"All  right." 

The  boys  climbed  up  a  ladder  into  a 
house  that  was  under  way  and  stood  open 
mouthed,  watching  the  workmen. 

"Say,  boys,  don't  you  want  to  run  down 
to  Atkins's  and  ask  him  for  my  left- 
handed  monkey  wrench  ?" 

"Sure." 

The  boys  started  on  the  run,  anxious 
to  be  accommodating. 

Mr.  Atkins  looked  at  them  quizzically. 

"That's  funny.     It's  up  at  Jobson's." 

The  boys  started  for  Jobson's.    Jobson 

grinned    and   passed    them    to   Watson. 

The  "left-handed  monkey  wrench"  joke 

served   among    workmen    to  keep  boys 

143 


Stony  Lonesome 

on  the  run  from  place  to  place  sometimes 
for  an  hour  or  two  before  they  began  to 
suspect  treachery.  Another  form  of  this 
pleasantry  was  to  send  boys  after  "strap 
oil."  The  boy  who  asked  for  strap  oil 
usually  got  the  strap. 

Shorty  and  Spot  did  not  see  through 
the  game  for  an  hour.  They  went  to  and 
fro  until  they  found  they  were  being  sent 
to  the  same  place  twice.  Then  they  went 
back  to  the  house  and  took  down  the  lad- 
ders under  the  impression  that  they  were 
getting  even.  But  they  knew  that  this 
was  a  mere  makeshift  and  that  the  insult 
was  not  by  any  means  avenged.  They 
scored  a  deep  mark  against  carpenters. 

Is  it  any  wonder  that  boys'  minds  are 
full  of  suspicions  and  that  their  hands  are 
against  nearly  everybody  ? 

"Now  they've  thrown  it  into  us  that 
way,"  said  Shorty  dejectedly,  "I  suppose 
the  next  thing  will  be  for  the  police  to 
swoop  down  and  gather  us  in.  I'm  a 
good  mind  to  go  down  to  the  town  hall 
and  confess  the  whole  thing.  That  might 
be  the  easiest  way  out.  I  can't  stand  this 
much  longer." 

144 


Stony  Lonesome 

"Well,  you  would  be  a  nice  one,"  said 
Spot,  in  the  deepest  disgust.  "I'm  a 
good  mind  to  kick  you.  You  want  to  go 
to  the  reform  school,  don't  you,  and  end 
up  in  jail  and  wear  bed  tickin'  ?  Shucks ! 
I  was  talking  with  Slim  Jones  and  he 
says  the  thing  to  do  is  to  destroy  the 
evverdunce.  He  read  it  in  Old  Sleuth. 
When  the  evverdunce  is  destroyed 
they  always  fool  the  police  for  a  long 
time." 

Once  more  hope  began  to  spring  up  in 
Shorty's  breast. 

"My  gracious  !  We  could  do  that  easy. 
I  wonder  if  we  hadn't  better  ask  Uncle 
Ellery  about  it  ?" 

"Ask  nothin'.  We  mustn't  trust 
nobody  in  this." 

After  Spot  had  gone  home  Shorty 
dropped  into  Uncle  Ellery's  shop  for  a 
little  conversation  on  his  own  hook. 

"Say,  Uncle  Ellery,  what  would  you  do 
if  you  hadn't  done  nothin'  and  the  police 
had  a  clear  case  against  you  ?  Course  I 
don't  mean  me.  But  supposin'  it  was 
your  case." 

"Wai,"  said  Uncle  Ellery,  "if  I  hadn't 


Stony  Lonesome 


done  nothin',  I  don't  see  how  they  could 
have  a  clear  case  against  me." 

"But  supposin'  a  man  had 
been  murdered  and  they 
found  his  money  hid  in  your 
cellar." 

"Yes,"  replied  Uncle  El- 
lery,  "that's  sarcumstantial 
evidence,  to  be  sure.  But 
when  I  say  I  didn't  do  it  and 
my  good  standing  in  the 
community  backs  me  up,  they  look  around 
pretty  carefully,  and  sooner  or  later  they 
find  motives  or  clues  that  p'int  to  the 
right  party.  That  is,  they  'most  always 
do.  You  know  the  story  of  the  mule  and 
the  goat,  don't  you  ?" 
"No,  what  is  she?" 

"Wai,  the  farmer  was  shoeing  the  mule 
out  in  the  barnyard  and  the  goat  was 
near  by.  The  farmer  turned  'round  and 
bent  over  to  pick  up  a  shoe  and  the  mule 
kicked  him  right  on  the  bend.  When 
he  came  to,  the  mule  charged  the 
goat  with  the  crime  of  buttin'.  In 
the  excitement,  the  rooster  lost  his 
head  and  declared  it  was  his  opinion 
146 


4B-J 


Stony  Lonesome 

that  the  goat  did  it.  In  fact,  he  said  he 
saw  him  do  it.  The  goat  would  have 
stood  a  mighty  poor  show  if  the  mule's 
hoof  print,  exact  form  and  size,  hadn't 
been  found  on  the  farmer.  See  ?  That 
simple  fact  overturned  the  rooster's  evi- 
dence and  the  mule  got  a  sentence  of 
hard  labor.  The  cases  ain't  exactly  paral- 
lel, but  they  show  what  I  mean." 

Shorty  laughed. 

"Say,  I'll  see  you  again.  P'raps  I'll  have 
something  to  spring  on  you." 

"All  right,  spring  away !"  said  Uncle 
Ellery.  "I'll  do  the  best  I  can  for  you." 

Shorty  left  the  shop  and  by  a  kind  of 
boy  instinct  made  his  way  toward  the 
swimming  hole  behind  the  factory.  It 
was  a  warm  day  and  he  felt  morally  cer- 
tain of  finding  Spot  somewhere  near  the 
river.  Shorty  had  brooded  over  the 
matter  so  much  that  the  indelible  pencils 
reached  out  skeleton  hands  and  clutched 
at  his  heart  every  time  anybody  said 
"police."  Unfortunately,  too,  it  was  con- 
sidered humorous  by  some  of  the  boys  to 
shout,  "The  police  are  coming,"  and  then 
run  in  an  attempt  to  start  a  panic.  So 
147 


Stony  Lonesome 


many  of  the  boys  had  minor  dere- 
lictions on  their  minds  such  as 
window  smashing,  ticktacking,  or 
stealing  apples,  that  their  fears 
were  seriously  worked  on  by  these 
alarms,  and  under  the  present  cir- 
cumstances it  can  readily  be  seen 
that  the  cry  was  particularly  start- 
ling to  Shorty. 
It  must  not  be  thought  for  a  moment 
that  the  police  force  of  Stony  Lonesome 
was  dangerous.  It  consisted  merely  of  a 
town  marshal  and  a  night  watch,  both  as 
harmless  as  the  Scotland  Yard  detectives 
in  the  Sherlock  Holmes  stories.  But  their 
names  had  been  used  by  so  many  moth- 
ers to  frighten  small  boys  into  obedience 
that  their  functions  were  held  in 
awe  in  Stony  Lonesome. 

In  addition  to  the  fear  of  the 
police,   every    time  Shorty 
went  down  town  he  had  to 
pass  Spaulding's  store,  from 
which  he  expected  to  see 
Mr.  Spaulding  leap  violently  into 
the  street  and  denounce  him  as 
a  thief  and  a  robber. 
148 


Stony  Lonesome 

At  the  swimming  hole  Shorty  found 
Spot  and  Slim  Jones  sitting  on  the  wharf 
whittling  tomahawks  out  of  a  piece 
of  clapboard  taken  from  the  new 
house.  The  thin  edge  of  the 
clapboard  served  as  the  blade  of 
the  weapon. 

"Hello,  Shorty!"  said  one  of  the  boys. 
"Going  down  town  to-night  ?" 

"What  for?" 

"The  engine's  goin'  to  squirt." 

"We  heard  the  captain  tell  one  of  the 
carpenters  up  to  the  new  house." 

"Durn  if  I  want  to  go  down  town! 
Spauldin'll  nab  us  sure  some  day.  I'll 
bet  anything  he's  got  a  detective  in  his 
cellar  now." 

"Aw,  go 'way!" 

"That's  all  right.  But  I'd  like  to  know 
who's  got  stolen  property  hidden  on  their 
premises !" 

Spot  and  Slim  wiggled  uneasily. 

"Yes,  sir,  that  thing's  bound  to  come 
out.  Everybody's  talkin'  about  it.  My 
gracious,  it's  awful !  WVve  got  to  do 
something." 

Slim  Jones  was  wiggling  around  in  a 
149 


Stony  Lonesome 


way  that    showed  that  a  new  idea  was 
struggling  to  get  to  the  surface. 

"Let's  swear  Uncle  Ellery  in  secrecy 
and  offer  to  divvy  the  reward  with  him  if 
he  gets  the  money." 

"It's  the  thing  to  do,"  said  Shorty. 
"Uncle  Ellery  won't  turn  us  over  to  the 
police." 

"You  bet  he  wouldn't  if  we'd  stole  the 
stuff  ourselves." 

Spot  demurred  to  this  plan  for  a  time 
but  was  finally  talked  around  to  it. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  the 

fifty  dollars  reward  ?     It's  always  fifty, 

isn't  it  ?"     This  from  Slim  Jones. 

"I  dunno." 

"Say,  I'd  get  a  gun  with  it,  wouldn't 

?n 

"Yes,  and  a  steam  yacht  to  put  on 
the  river." 

"I  want  one  of  them  yeller  setting 
dogs." 

"And  a  bowie  knife." 

"Golly !" 

The    boys    had     stopped 
their  whittling   and  sat   on 
the  wharf  rolling  in  wealth. 
150 


Stony  Lonesome 


"We    can    trust   old    Uncle   El,"   said 
Shorty. 

"Sure." 

"Pa'd  take  all  the  money  himself." 

"P'raps  that's  so." 

"Sure  it  is." 

Then  after  a  pause  to  give  opportunity 
to  dreams: 

"Ain't  it  great?" 

"You  bet." 

"Say,  we're  fixed  for  life  now." 

"What  you  goin'  to  do  ?" 

"Oh,  I  dunno." 

"Let's  go  out  on  tne  plains !" 

"I'm  thinking  some  of  goin'  to 
Europe  for  a  few  months." 

"Burn  Europe !  I'd  like  to  try 
Alaska.  There's  no  end  of  money 
there."  .  ,- 

"Alaska's  too  cold." 

"California's  pretty  good." 

"So's  Idaho." 

"Let's  go  down  and  see  Uncle 
Ellery." 

They  found  Uncle  Ellery  busy 
on  a  casket. 

"Hello,  Uncle!" 


Stony  Lonesome 

"How  air  ye,  boys?  What's  new?  Got 
any  strap  oil  lately  ?" 

Uncle  Ellery  struck  a  quizzical  attitude 
and  looked  down  at  the  boys. 

"Say,  Uncle!" 

"Wai?" 

"We  got  a  secret  we  wanter  tell  if  you'll 
promise  not  to  give  us  away." 

"All  right,  let  her  come!" 

"You  won't  give  us  away?" 

"No,  siree!  I'll  stand  by  you  till  king- 
dom come." 

"You  see  there's  money  in  it,  and  we 
want  you  to  help  us  get  it;  then  we'll  divvy 
up." 

Uncle  Ellery  knocked  off  work  alto- 
gether. The  idea  of  money  acts  strongly 
on  the  Anglo-Saxon  mind. 

"What  you  boys  got  up  your  sleeve  ?" 

"Well,  it's  this  way.  We  found  some 
hidden  treasure  buried,  an'  we  want  to 
get  the  reward.  There'll  be  four  of  us  to 
divvy,  you  an'  us  three.  We  tell  you 
where  the  stuff  is  buried  an'  you  fix  it 
with  the  police." 

Uncle  Ellery  listened  to  the  tale  care- 
fully. After  it  was  finished,  he  said,  "Say, 
152 


Stony  Lonesome 


you  just  leave  this  to  me,  and  I'll  fix 
it." 

The  boys  did  not  say  anything  about 
Spaulding's  store.  They  merely  told 
of  the  discovery  of  the  pencils  and 
where  they  were  now  concealed. 

As  the  boys  left  the  shop  in  much 
better  spirits  than  they  had  been  for 
several  days,  a  figure  standing  behind 
the  window  in  the  next  store  watched 
them  with  a  smile  of  triumph.  It  was 
Peewee  Jackson,  the  Boy  Detective. 


11 


153 


CHAPTER  X 

In  Which  Peewees  Coup  d'  Etat  Fails  to  Accomplish 
Its  Object. 

WATCHING  carefully  dressed  bank- 
ers and  brokers  painfully  follow- 
ing the  golf  ball  over  hill  and  down  dale, 
I  have  often  wished  that  they  could 
be  induced  to  play  kick-the-stick  in 
the  way  in  which  the  boys  played 
it  in  Stony  Lonesome.     For  this 
strenuous    form   of    sport,   if    the 
wealthy  man  adopted  it,  each  mil- 


lionaire would  have  to  provide  himself  a 
good,  stout  stick.  A  fleshy  banker  with 
the  gout  would  be  chosen  goal  keeper. 
He  would  place  his  stick,  a  stout  piece  of 
elm  or  hickory  about  a  foot  long,  care- 
fully against  the  corner  of  the  barn.  Then 
the  wealthy  and  distinguished  president 
of  a  trust  company  would  be  chosen  to 
"knock  off."  Taking  his  golf  club,  he 
would  knock  the  stick  half  a  block.  Then 
all  the  millionaires  would  scatter  like 
jack  rabbits  and  hide  under  the  barns,  on 
154 


Stony  Lonesome 


the  roofs  around  the  corner,  under  the 
sidewalk — anywhere  out  of  sight.  The 
fleshy  old  banker  with  the  gout 
would  make  a  hurried  run  to  re- 
place the  stick.  As  long  as  it 
reclined  against  the  goal, 
he  might  "taggoul"  for  any 
millionaire  he  saw.  If,  on 
the  other  hand,  while  he 
was  out  hunting  for  prey, 
another  millionaire  rushed 
in  and  knocked  the  stick, 
the  game  would  be  blocked 
for  the  goal  keeper  until  he  replaced  it. 

Finally  the  goal  keeper  would  see  some 
wealthy  oil  merchant's  glasses  peering 
over  the  roof  of  the  house,  and  he  would 
emit  a  terrible  yell: 

"I  seen  J.  Foster  Calkins  of  the  Penn- 
sylvania Oil  Company!  Taggoul  for  J. 
Foster  Calkins !" 

Then  J.  Foster  would  become 
goal  keeper,  and  the  game 
would  stop  while  everybody 
hollered: 

"All  in  free !" 

There's  where   your  bankers 
155 


and  merchants  would  get  exercise,  shin- 
ning up  and  down  water  pipes,  crawling 
S;    under   sidewalks    and    jumping 
fences.      And   fun !      For   pure 
fun,     kick-the-stick     beats     the 
earth ! 

While  Shorty  and  the  gang 
were  attempting  to  forget  their 
troubles  in  this  highly  diverting 
game,  in  fact  had  for  the  mo- 
ment forgotten  them  utterly  and  were 
emptying  a  car  load  of  noise  on  the 
streets  of  "our  quiet  town,"  a  visitor  to 
Uncle  Ellery  would  have  found  that 
genial  raconteur's  temper  sadly  ruffled. 
Some  one,  doubtless  one  of  the  larger 
boys  who  trained  with  Breezy  Martin, 
had  stolen  one  of  his  coffins.  This  in 
Stony  Lonesome  was  considered  a  rare 
bit  of  humor. 

"If  the  cuss  wasn't  so  all-fired  little," 
said  Uncle  Ellery  viciously,  "I'd  believe 
Peewee  Jackson  had  done  it." 

Uncle  Ellery  knew  that  if  he  kept  quiet, 

the  missing  article  would  soon  appear  in 

some  way  or  other  when    the   practical 

joke,  for  which  it  was  taken,  was  ripe.     So 

156 


he  went  on  about  his  work  apparently 
undisturbed,  though  a  little  ruffled  in- 
wardly. Later  in  the  morning  he  noticed 
Peewee  Jackson's  nose  flattened  against 
the  pane  of  his  shop  window.  Peewee 
was  doing  detective  work.  He  would 
have  scorned  the  thought  of  entering 
Uncle  Ellery's  shop  without  carefully 
looking  over  the  ground  in  advance. 
Uncle  Ellery  beckoned  to  him  to  enter 
and  Peewee  sidled  in. 

"Say,  Peewee,"  said  Uncle  Ellery, 
"do  you  know  who  took  my  cof- 
fin?" 

Peewee's  face  expressed  so  much 
astonishment  that  Uncle  Ellery  saw 
at  once  that  he  knew  nothing  about  the 
raid  on  the  shop. 

"Naw !     When'd  you  lose  her  ?" 

"Oh,  some  of  you  fellers  toted  her  off 
las'  night,  I  guess." 

"Say,  I  believe  I  know  who  done  it !" 

A  brilliant    Scotland   Yard    idea    had 
come  to  Peewee. 

"You  go  an'  look  up  in  Shorty  Hitch- 
cock's barn !" 

"Shorty!" 

157 


Uncle  Ellery  knocked  off  work  in  the 
utmost  astonishment.      Then  he  laughed. 
"Those  little  devils  wouldn't  steal  from 
me." 

"Wouldn't  they?"  Peewee  was  grimly 
mysterious.  "I  know  where  they've  got 
plunder  planted  an'  I  kin  prove  it.  I've 
seen  it !" 

"Did  ye  see  my  coffin  there?"  Uncle 
Ellery  was  leading  Peewee  on. 

"No,  I  didn't,  but  it  was  several  days 
ago  I  saw  their  plant.  But  that  gang's 
equal  to  anything." 

"If  you  know  where  the  stuff's  hid  and 
don't  inform  on  the  thieves  you  are  in 
danger  of  being  accused,  too,"  said  Uncle 
Ellery. 

"I  know  my  game,"  said  Peewee 
soberly,  "an'  I'm  going  to  spring  the 
trap  when  I'm  good  and  ready." 
Uncle  Ellery  had  to  laugh. 
"Say,  you'll  be  on  the  force  some 
day." 

"That's  all  right." 
"Sure  thing." 

Uncle    Ellery  went    on   with    his 
work  and  Peewee  went  out.     As  he 
158 


Stony  Lonesome 

passed  down  the  street,  he  began  to  fear 
that  he  had  given  his  information  away. 

"My  gosh  !  Don't  I  know  enough  yet 
to  keep  my  mouth  shut?" 

Peewee  kicked  himself  mentally  and 
went  off  to  find  Bill  Kendall,  the  officer. 

Old  Sleuth  had  not  been  gone  very 
long  before  Shorty,  Spot,  and  Slim  Jones 
wandered  into  Uncle  Ellery's  shop. 

"Say,  boys,"  said  Uncle  Ellery,  "did  you 
tell  Peewee  Jackson  about  your  plant  ?" 

"Peewee!" 

The  boys  looked  at  one  another  in 
horror. 

"No,  sir;  we  wouldn't  tell  Peewee  for 
nothin'." 

"Well,  I'm  afraid  Peewee's  going  to 
make  us  trouble.  Suppose  we  go  up  and 
look  at  your  plunder." 

"What's  Peewee  know?"  asked  Shorty. 

"He  says  he  knows  where  your  plant 
is." 

"My  gosh !  It's  Peewee  got  the  pen- 
cils !"  said  Shorty. 

"Wai,"  said  Uncle  Ellery,  "you  didn't 
steal 'em.     He  can't  hurt  you  none.    We'll 
go  up  to  the  house  an'  look  'em  over." 
159 


Stony  Lonesome 


Uncle  Ellery  got  into  his  coat,  locked  his 
inner  door,  leaving  the  outer  shop  open, 
and  started  up  the  street  with  the  boys. 
On  the  way  Shorty  whispered  some- 
thing to  him  that  made  him  laugh. 
There  was  a  general  feeling  that  the 
explosion  was  near.  The  air  was  full  of 
electricity.  As  they  came  in  sight  of 
Shorty's  house,  Spot  grabbed  Shorty  by 
the  arm  and  in  a  voice  of  horror  ex- 
claimed: 

"My  gosh,  look  there!" 
Over  in  the  Hitchcock  yard  stood  Bill 
Kendall  and  Peewee  Jackson  talking  with 
Mr.  Hitchcock. 

"Come  on,  boys,"  said  Uncle  Ellefy. 
"I'll  stand  by  you." 

"Henry,"  said  Mr.  Hitchcock, 
"what  does  this  mean  ?  Henry 
Jackson  says  that  you  have  stolen 
property  secreted  in  these  prem- 
ises." 

"Yes,"  said  Peewee,  "an'  it's 
buried  in  that  corner." 

"Then  why  don't  you  dig  her 
up  ?"  asked  Shorty. 

"Henry,"  said  Mr.  Hitchcock 
160 


Stony  Lonesome 

severely,  "have  you  any  stolen  property 
buried  there  ?" 
"No,  sir!" 

"Dig  her  up,"  said   Peewee,  the   Red 
Avenger. 

Bill  Kendall  took  the  spade  Shorty 
procured  and  lifted  the  turf.  A  shovel 
or  two  of  earth  was  scooped  away  and 
the  box  came  to  view.  Peewee  reached 
down  and  opened  it  and  started  back 
with  surprise.  In  it  was — a  dead 
cat. 

"Looky  here,"  said  Bill  Kendall  furi- 
ously to  Peewee.     "You  fade  away  quick 
or  I'll  clap  you  in  jail." 
"But"-   —  began  Peewee. 
"You  fade !" 

Peewee  was  frightened  and  hurried 
away  on  the  run.  Uncle 
Ellery  was  chuckling  audi- 
bly and  Mr.  Hitchcock 
was  mildly  amused. 

"Now,"  said  Uncle 
Ellery,  "let's  get 
at  the  facts.  Boys, 
bring  your  plunder 
out." 
161 


Stony  Lonesome 

Shorty  produced  the  pencils  and  told 
his  story  of  the  find. 

"They  came  from  the  Spaulding's  store 
robbery,  I  guess,"  said  Shorty,  "and  me 
and  Spot  and  Slim  thought  we'd  claim 
the  fifty  dollars  reward  for  finding  stolen 
property." 

"Spaulding's  store  robbed !" 
Both   Uncle    Ellery  and   Bill    Kendall 
burst  into  loud  laughter  and  Mr.  Hitch- 
cock smiled. 

"Spaulding's  store  wasn't  never  robbed," 
said  the  officer. 

"But  it  said  so  in  the  paper,"  said 
Shorty. 

"That  was  an  April  fool  publication, 
Henry,"  said  Mr.  Hitchcock.  "The  editor 
put  it  in  as  a  joke." 

"Then  whose  pencils  are  they?" 
"Wai,"  remarked  Uncle  Ellery,  "come 
to  think  of  it,  old  Matherson,  the  her- 
mit, used  to  live  up  in  them  woods.     He 
sold  indelible  pencils  until  he  took 
sick  and  went  to  the  poorhouse. 
Probably  the  boys  have  found  his 
old  nest.     He  used  to  hide  his  stuff 
because  he  was  afraid  of  robbers." 
162 


Stony  Lonesome 

"Say,  then  we've  been  worrying  about 
nothing." 

It  was  Shorty  who  spoke. 

"That's  what  people  usually  worry 
about,"  replied  Uncle  Ellery. 

"Then  our  fifty  dollars"-  Slim 

Jones  saw  the  foolishness  of  the  question 
before  it  was  asked  and  ended  up  with, 
"Come  on  boys,  let's  go  in  swimmin' 
again." 

And  the  boys  scurried  away  laughing 
and  whooping.  At  any  rate  the  burden 
of  the  fear  was  lifted,  even  if  the  fifty 
dollars  had  gone  glimmering. 

"But  say,  we'll  fix  that  Peewee,"  said 


Stony  Lonesome 

Spot.  Til  lick  him  within  an  inch  of  his 
life." 

"He  ain't  no  kind  of  a  detective,"  said 
Slim. 

"I  don't  believe  he  could  detect  that 
skunk  under  Mrs.  Mason's  barn,"  said 
Shorty  with  much  contempt. 


There  has  not  been  much  of  a  story 
told  in  this  book  and  it  does  not  need 
much  of  an  ending.  In  fact  it  never  has 
ended.  The  old  place  is  right  on  earth 
still  and  the  game  of  life  is  going  on  with- 
out interruption. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  tell  all  that  hap- 
pened during  those  happy  years  in  Stony 
Lonesome,  of  which  Shorty  and  Spot 
were  the  greater  part.  Things  were 
always  happening  there.  When  the  river 
came  up  in  the  spring  floods  and  stood 
around  in  the  post  office,  delaying  the 
United  States  mail,  Shorty  fell  from  a 
cake  of  ice  he  was  trying  to  navigate  and 
was  nearly  drowned.  The  horse  took  a 
kick  at  him  once,  and  later  he  was  chased 
across  the  pasture  by  a  cross  bull.  Twice 
164 


Stony  Lonesome 

he  fell  from  the  barn  window.  Once  he 
ran  away  out  West  to  shoot  Indians  and 
was  nearly  five  miles  from  home  before 
he  decided  to  give  it  up.  The  teacher 
reached  for  him  with  the  ruler  rather 
too  often  for  comfort.  Uncle  Ellery  we 
had  always  with  us.  Shorty  used  to 
marvel  a  good  deal  at  his  stories  until 
one  day  he  got  hold  of  the  old 
patent  medicine  almanac  that  grandpa 
used  to  hang  up  by  a  string  behind  the 
stove,  and  there  he  found  several  stories 
that  Uncle  Ellery  had  appropriated,  slyly 
putting  himself  in  as  the  hero. 

As  time  went  on,  many  of  the  boys 
left  the  old  home  and  scattered  over 
the  country.  They  are  playing  other 
games  now,  games  of  politics  and  finance 
that  seem  to  them  more  serious  and  im- 
portant. I  wonder  if  they  are  ? 

When  Judge  Hitchcock  (Shorty)  re- 
turned from  the  Old  Home  celebration 
last  year,  he  said  that  the  old  place 
was  still  a  bit  rocky — and  a  little 
lonesome  without  Uncle  Ellery. 

We  heard  with  pained  surprise 
that  Frankie  Foster  had  lived  down 
165 


Stony  Lonesome 

his  reputation  as  the  good  boy.  He  used 
sea  language  and  was  not  quite  so  fastidi- 
ious  about  the  use  of  tobacco  as  he  might 
have  been. 

In  Henry  Jackson,  the  well-known  Bos- 
ton detective,  who  traced  out  the  Farm- 
ington  bank  robbery,  we  recognized 
Peewee  again — still  on  the  trail. 

Spot  Maloney  ? 

Oh,  Spot  is  in  Kansas  City  and  doing 
very  well.  In  fact,  we  are  all  doing  very 
well  indeed,  thank  God,  and  could  we 
get  as  far  away  from  the  present  as  we 
are  from  the  Stony  Lonesome  days,  the 
present  itself  would  appear  as  full  of 
glory  as  those  old  days  do  now. 


1 66 


fill! 


L.C.-:A;T/  Gf  TS'S 

.WALT  DiSNTf  STL1:,: 


